


Folie à deux

by Azrael_Doll



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Allison Argent, BAMF Stiles, Eichen | Echo House, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mind Links, Spark Stiles Stilinski, The Fae
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-02-22 11:41:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2506520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azrael_Doll/pseuds/Azrael_Doll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles' pack is in danger and his only choice is to go back to the scene of his nightmares and to beg help from his enemy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Folie imposée

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how I stand on the whole Malia thing with this fic. It feels a bit odd him having a relationship with the father and the daughter, so disregard her in a romantic sense to Stiles for this fic.
> 
> Also I tried writing without Allison and it just didn't work. So she's alive. /Cue Frankenstein screaming.

 

Stiles felt the nausea rolling in his stomach at the idea of being back here; particularly given the events of the past year and the more recent Brunski incident. It felt like he was lighting a match and waiting for his carefully constructed world to burn down around him. The Eichen House’s main building stared down at him, a commendable attempt at a stereotypically creepy asylum. He gritted his teeth and followed the veterinarian inside, doing his best to ignore the decor and the patients milling around, those both familiar and unfamiliar. Instead he focused on the signal that Deaton somehow seemed to the send to the receptionist and it wasn’t long before a vaguely familiar doctor came out to greet them. He gestured for the duo to follow and shivering Stiles did stifling the hollow feeling he had from the silence surrounding them. As they walked through the halls and through the public and private areas as luck would have it they passed by the storage room he’d visited when he’d last been here.

 

Unbidden the memories rose up inside him of Brunski; the professed angel of death offering him release. Stiles could feel the longing rising inside of him, the adamant disregard for his own life. The concept no longer affected him. Oh. It scared him, he was terrified of it happening to those he loved, but the thought of it affecting him, left him apathetic. There were worse things than death in this world. Absently he took a step forward licking his lips needing the feeling of oblivion that was beyond those doors. Images of Brunski came to mind and a voice in his head whispered, ‘Sedate him’.

 

“Stiles?” A voice called out breaking into his thoughts and causing him to look up and over at the source.

 

Deaton was stood down the end of the hall next to a turn off and was staring back at the pale boy. Stiles shook himself and with a start he realised that he had been moving towards the door. He walked away from the door and down the hall, ignoring the crease of frustration and concern in the older man’s face. They continued on through the asylum until they reached the doorway leading down into the many rooms of the basement. Unfortunately they weren’t allowed to go the other way as it was restricted to emergencies.

 

Stiles had focused on how he has to go in there and go past his demons to get to his target. But the thought revolted him, even more so than the wrongness of being in this building again. Stiles stopped a full fifteen paces away from the closed door, shifting from foot to foot.

 

“You don’t have to do this.” Deaton said coming up and stopping a little behind him, “We can turn back right now.”

 

Stiles laughed ruefully, it was a starkly hollow and twisting sound and it made Alan’s stomach roll, “You know as well as I that I would not be here if I had a choice,” Stiles said before shrugging, “Besides I always wanted to see the super-secret lair where they keep all the crazy monsters.” Though his words were venomously sarcastic, the lack of intonation dulled the bite.

 

Alan lifted his arm as if to place his hand on Stiles’ shoulder but he hesitated a moment before reaching out and squeezing the boys arm. Stiles turned his head slightly to the vet and nodded at him before moving away from the grasp and down the corridor to the basement. The door opened in front of him and as he was descending, Alan called out from the hallway above, “Good Luck, Stiles.” Turning Stiles stared back wordlessly to face the man still standing in the hallway as the door was closed behind him; its shadow passing over his face.

 

“Let’s get a move on shall we Mr Stilinski?” The Doctor who’d been leading them this far requested. Stiles wordlessly nodded in the dim light and followed him along, absently staring at the man’s back as he tried to remember his name. Fenris, Conrad Fenris, where had he heard that name before? With a start he stopped, that was the name of the Doctor he and Scott had tracked down ages ago. No wonder the man looked at him strangely. He blinked away his thoughts and glanced around. It was a mistake. The thoughts of the Doctor had distracted him. But now he could see the main room of the basement clearly.

 

It was one of the rooms the Nogitsune had toyed with him in. It seemed smaller somehow and he furrowed his brow at the thought, which wasn’t pleasant. The walls felt like they were moving towards him. He stopped, holding his breath and he tried to force the memories down, he could freak out all he liked later, away from civilisation and the concerns that were plaguing him at the moment. There was too much at stake right now. His breathing even out and he turned to look away only to see the Japanese symbol for ‘self’ grinning down at him from where it had been etched into a wall, mocking in all its glory.

 

Stiles had never really liked riddles before the Nogitsune, he’d much preferred number puzzles or chess. But now, now he loathed them with a passion, but one thing he’d never told anyone was how adept he had become at them. They seemed to float around in his head and he’d find himself answering them during random times of the day. Sometimes he’d be daydreaming about different senarios or about some of the few good things in his life and the next thing he knew he was creating a new riddle. Seeing that symbol made the riddles reverberate through his head, most of which he wasn’t sure where he’d heard them from. He wasn’t even sure of their language but the meaning of the words made sense to him. He closed his eyes as one echoed inside his head, “What can be lost and found, but is clear as day and wit can mend?”

 

Stiles’ hand shook as he started to tap his fingers on his thigh, not stopping even when interrupted by the doctor prompting him, “Mr. Stilinski,” annoyance written in his tone. Stiles jerked away from where he stood and grabbed his hand tightly he stretched out his fingers and then clenched them, stopping the tapping. He then moved over to the doorway the Doctor was standing in and followed him through into the other rooms of the basement. The winded through too many rooms and Stile swore they doubled back at least a couple of times to try and confuse him. Eventually they reached an elevator at an odd discrepancy to the rest of the place; it was stainless steel and high tech and Stiles desperately didn’t want to use it. But he had very little choice in the matter. They entered and rode in silence; Stiles’ brain was firing off in all directions trying to get him to talk, it took all his willpower not to. He’d wanted to take some Adderall but was told that it would be a bad idea. So instead he’d had no mental defences to the memories and he couldn’t help but hear the screams and his hands felt warm and Fenris coughed. Stiles glanced over and saw the Doctor gesture to his hands; he was tapping again. He clenched his fists digging the nails into his skin. The elevator ride couldn’t be over quick enough.

It opened into a stark white anteroom which had one door to the left of him and one door directly in front of him. There was a young woman sitting at a minimalist desk to the right. “Doctor Fenris and Stiles Stilinski.” The man told her and she looked down at the macbook in front of her to check it before she told them to go through the door opposite the elevator. It led to a much smaller room with no furniture in it but it had another door opposite the first one. They walked forward until Dr. Fenris told Stiles to stop and then the lights changed and started flashing and shifting colours. Stiles stiffened.

 

“It’s scanning for any forbidden items or concealment.”

 

“Right,” Stiles drawled before quipping, “It?”

 

The doctor just raised an eyebrow at him and held his gaze until the flashing stopped. He then led the way through the next doorway. Stiles had almost made a quip about epilepsy when the thought of catwoman came to mind. There’d been so much death. Some of it his fault and he’d be damned before it happened again. Straightening his shoulders he followed. The next hour or so passed in a haze of questions, tests and searches, before he was finally allowed to go inside. He was led down a long corridor which was full of different creatures on either side looking out onto the walkway. Stiles felt like he was on parade. The fresh meat. Luckily he wouldn't be staying. They went past a green woman and a man with horns and creepy yellow eyes. He repressed a shudder.

 

“This is it.” Dr. Fenris said, gesturing for the orderly that had joined them to open the door.

 

“I have a question before you do.” Stile interjected before the door was opened and he then continued when the doctor nodded at him, “Why wasn’t I or the other’s put in here before?”

 

The doctor paused as if debating his answer, “Some didn’t merit it, like Malia, other’s such as yourself there was still a chance they could be saved.” He then motioned to the doorway.

 

“And Peter?”

 

“Some were thought to be too far gone to be any threat.”

 

Stiles glanced away and rocked back on his heals before nodding for them to open the door and he swung forward in a lunging move and into the room beyond. It was exactly as it had been described to him, a stark white that matched the rest of the colour scheme of the place, with two beds against each side wall with a transparent wall separating him from the two occupants in the room. The heavy mainly steel door swung shut, slamming behind him, the sound almost deafening in the quiet.

 

“Well if it isn’t little old Stiles Stilinski back for another visit to the madhouse.” Peter Hale drawled from where he was lounging on a bed, “I have to say I wasn’t expecting a visit from you of all people.”

 

The other occupant had risen from his own bed and was standing right in front of the dividing wall, staring at Stiles, “You didn’t tell me you knew a nogitsune, Peter.” He spoke his voice soft but commanding.

 

Stiles had yet to shift his vision away from the werewolf and saw the barely imperceptible flinch he gave at the other man using his name, before covering it up.

 

“Allow me to introduce myself, I am Doctor Valack and you I take it are Stiles Stilinski the Sheriffs son.”

 

Stiles nodded still not looking at the other man, who seemed annoyed at this, and his voice changed into a clip command, “Come here boy.”

 

“Yeah thanks but no thanks. I’m not here for you.”

 

“I wasn’t asking.” The man said and inadvertently Stiles’ eyes shifted over to him, just in time to see the bloody third eye in the middle of his forehead opening.

 

Pain lanced through Stiles’ mind, nearly on par with what the nogitsune had caused him. The memories that he’d been trying to suppress swam to the surface, they were too fresh given the memory of this place and he was tired and had no Adderall and before he knew it. He was floating in his own thoughts; he caught snippets of information and opinions that drifted in from the other man through the link in their minds. This must be what happened to Alan, Stiles thought to himself. The pain seemed to shift pressure and amount as the man accessed different areas of his mind. The dichotomy of terror and joy of the nogitsune memories; a memory of him and Scott on a playground when they were younger; his life flashing before his eyes. Dimly he was away of his knees hitting the cold hard ground underneath him. The images, sensations and feelings assaulted him, until they shifted into a dull ache before diving back into his mind full force trying to get at the box of memories in the centre of Stiles’ mind. He couldn’t help the throat tearing scream that broke out through his mouth, his hands scrabbled for purchase on the smooth marble floor, still unable to look away as he screamed in his own mind. “You’re not getting that,” he hissed, “That is not for you.” The pressure halted for a second and Stiles received a feeling of amusement coming from the other man before the pressure redoubled its efforts. “GET OUT OF MY HEAD!” He roared. Not sure if he was still only speaking mentally.

 

The pressure disappeared leaving Stiles gasping and clutching his own head. It felt light and sore as if it had been stretched and pulled in too many different directions at once. After gasping in breaths Stiles blinked away the red liquid in his eyes as he glanced up not foolish enough to think he had done anything against a supernatural creature. He saw the blurry shape of another man standing in front of him, his rigid and tense back to Stiles. It was Peter. Stiles could barely comprehend what was happening; he could see the blackness curling inwards at the edges of his vision. But one thing stuck with him, the image of Peter staring at Valack and blocking his vision of Stiles. Peter with his hands clenched and red blood dripping from them and falling ever so slowly to land on the cold white floor. Before everything went black.

 

* * *

 

 When Stiles regained consciousness he was lying down on something soft, he was still fully clothed but had no covers over him. He blinked open his eyes squinting at the bright white light surrounding him. He groaned to himself in pain, his whole body and head felt used as if they’d been pushed well past their breaking point. Blearily he stared at the ceiling in too much agony to move just at that moment.

 

“Finally awake then.” An annoyed voice called over to him.

 

Trying to clear his head Stiles grit his teeth and slowly moved to sit up. He was in a cot on the other side of the transparent wall. He glanced around startled, but the man with the third eye from earlier was gone. But why was he on this side of the barrier? With a start his eyes landed on the other figure in the room. Peter Hale. He licked his lips nervously as he took in how he was locked in a cage with Peter with nothing between them and no rhyme or reason to stop Peter from doing anything he wanted.

 

Peter smirked to himself as he continued on, pretending obliviousness to Stiles’ near panic, “Apparently they don’t know what to make of you. Some of them are terrified, the rest are amazed. Pretty much all of them didn’t expect you to wake up.”

 

“What do you mean?” Stiles said still staring at Peter barely daring to breathe let alone move. The older werewolf was lying in his bed and perusing a dark red-brown leather bound book. The man in question just licked his finger before turning the page.

 

“Peter.” Stiles said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, all of his movements smooth and controlled as if to not spook the werewolf in the room.

 

Sighing dramatically the man closed his book before turning to look at Stiles he smirk becoming more evident, “Most people couldn’t do what you did Stiles. It took Lydia; a banshee, who has a lot of power, even though admittedly she has very little training to pull Doctor Deaton back from the brink in his mind and she herself would be consumed even quicker. For you to fight him off and then wake up a couple hours later, seemingly no worse for wear. Well, it raises questions.” Peter let his eyes wonder away from Stiles’ gaze to rest on the younger man’s forehead. “They were worried about what you might do or become next.”

 

Stiles lifted his hand and touched his forehead but all he could feel was normal skin and bone underneath. “Become. What do you mean Peter?”

 

The werewolf in front of him turned back to his book as if signalling the end to the conversation. Without really thinking about what he was doing Stiles moved and grabbed the book from the werewolf’s hands, whether it was a testament to Stiles’ adrenalin and reflexes or the drugs they were pumping Peter full of or a combination of the two that let Stiles do so, he didn’t know.

 

Peter just stared at the young man in front of him. “Why Stiles it isn’t nice to take other’s things, didn’t your mother ever teach you that?”

 

Stiles flinched at the mention of his mother, “What did you mean?” He asked his voice barely above a whisper.

 

“Simply put. You were a nogitsune, who knows what surprises it left in your head.” Peter said before holding his hand out for his book. Stiles gave it back to him absently and Peter was pleased to see that the boy had at least kept his place. He was just starting to get back into the written word when hysterical laughter burst from the boy and ricocheted off the walls and around the room. Peter flinched, his ears hurting at the harsh noise. “Why are you doing that?” He snapped.

 

“Because I might be going insane again,” Stiles replied before gasping for air and continuing, “No, I definitely am already. Why else would be fool enough to come here to talk to you of all people.” He chuckled ruefully to himself again, “And now they’ve locked me up in here with you. Congratulations Stiles you got what you wanted.”

 

Peter stared at the boy flummoxed, “You know this isn’t helping your case right?”

 

“I don’t think there’s much that can help me, Peter.”

 

"No? Certainly acting sane would be the first thing to do?"

 

"But I'm not."

 

"Oh hardly, if you were insane would wouldn't think you were, as you wouldn't know what was normal. Therefore you wouldn't know how to act normal. Hence anyone who has a concept of insanity probably isn't insane."

 

"Does that apply to you?"

 

Peter smirked, "I said probably."

 

"Okay so. I'm stuck in here, indefinitely now." Stiles said starting to pace, "Just brilliant."

 

Peter ignored the boy pacing back and forth, it was so monotonous and it just verged on being annoying that the man sighed. His interested was admittedly peaked about why Stiles was here, he knew there was probably more going on. But for the boy to come here, and there was the fact that this might be the last bit of entertainment he'd get in who knows how long. "What was it you came to see me for, I'm assuming it wasn't just my devilish good looks, else would have jumped me by now, as they put it."

 

Stiles didn't know how to respond, but he could help but laugh, "Devilish good looks, brilliant. An insane narcissistic werewolf is my cellmate." He flopped himself back on his bed lying down and looking up at the ceiling. "What do you know about the fae?"

 

"Not to get involved with them for a start. What did they do?" Stiles fidgeted on his bed and grimaced, Peter glanced over at him, "Come now, you knew I would ask about what happened and were prepared to tell me earlier. Oh. That was before you were on this side of the glass with me." Smiling the older man sat up and faced Stiles, taking note of his position in his book before placing it next to him on his bed. "Stiles." The younger boy looked over at him, still lying down, "I swear that I will not harm you whilst you are in this room with me."

 

Peter could hear the intake of air that that statement had evoked, "What about when we're no longer in here?"

 

"We?"

 

Stiles rolled his eyes, "You know what I mean, besides why would I trust you word? You killed your family and you tried to kill everyone I know multiple times."

 

"Ah, you're forgetting one key thing Stiles. I offered you the bite and I allowed you to refuse me. My mind was clearer when that happened, it was a strange moment if I do say so myself. I still to this day don't know why I never turned you. Stiles Stilinski as a werewolf, now that would be a sight to see." Peters eyes lit up and he held the younger man's gaze.

 

Stiles gulped the prospect was terrifying. "You give me you word that no harm will come to me and that you will use none of the information given to you by me, against me or those I care about?"

 

"I agree." Peter said nonchalantly, "Though, as to what my penalty would be I am intrigued." Stiles refused to comment and sat up, turning to face the other man, feeling uncomfortable. "So, do tell. It has been so long since I've heard news from the outside world."

 

"A Fae Queen and her court came to seek out the Nemeton and she's trapped them all in her realm."

 

"Did they eat the fae food or kiss any of the magic-folk?"

 

"No. If it had been either of those I could figure out what to do."

 

Peter frowned, "Where you with them when it happened?"

 

Stiles nodded, "We had gone to greet them as a pack and things were going well until," He shifted uncomfortable, "They realised what I once had been and they asked to test me." Peter nodded and motion for him to continue, "I agreed and at first it was fine, merely tests of morality or as close as you can get to it with the Fae. And then it escalated. Scott and the others tried to intervene, but they were told as forfeit for interfering they must stay in that realm."

 

"Succinct." Peter commented dryly, "You offered yourself as a trade of course?"

 

"Yes." Stiles breathed.

 

"I'm amazed they didn't accept. What did they say?"

 

"That as a boon to me, I must give them what they seek and only then will they release my pack."

 

Peter shook his head, "So give them it. It can't be that hard to figure out what they want, for one such as you."

 

Stiles looked away, "Is there any other way?"

 

Peter moved across the room, he was still quick and graceful even when drugged. He grabbed the young man’s face with his hand, clenching it tightly, the other bracing him on the bed besides Stiles, leaning the younger man backwards and tilting his head up. "You come here and ask me, if there's another way to deal with the Fae?! You who lied and killed and tricked, you belong in The Unseelie Court." The werewolf hissed.

 

"I know." Stiles replied holding his gaze. "As do you."

 

"I do like you Stiles." He paused, still not releasing the person in front of him, the sent was faint but he could smell the adrenalin running through Stiles.

 

"Is there another way?"

 

"There might be, but you will not like it and the others will not approve."

 

"Tell me."

 

"There's nothing in it for me."

 

Stiles narrowed his eyes, "What do you want? I will not release you from here."

 

"Oh I wasn't going to ask for that. It's quite simple really, I want you to visit me once a week and tell me all about what is happening in the real world. You can tell your friends or not. But you will come."

 

"Deal." Stiles spat, his heart sinking at the prospect.

 

"This is a Fae deal, is it not? Let us seal it in their manner." And Peter kissed him, the hand that was on his face moving slightly lower to cup his neck and loosening his grip, but still holding Stiles to him.

 

Stiles froze, he could feel the heat of the older man’s lips against his and now it had been named a Fae deal he knew he had no choice. They sealed their deals with a passionate kiss. Tentatively he opened his mouth and kissed the man back. His stubble scratched against Stiles' chin and Peter's tongue entered his mouth possessive and demanding. It writhed against his and traced over his teeth teasing him. Stiles' mind felt like it had been short-circuited; his hands curled grabbing onto the crisp sheets of the bed. He felt Peter's other hand move from its perch on his bed, it caressed his thigh and travelled up, his large hands warm on Stiles' waist as it pulled him closer. Without realising Stiles slid back so that the older man was further on top of him, between his legs. Peter nibbled on Stiles' bottom lip and his hand pushed Stiles' shirt up, Stiles' moaned and Peter took advantage of his open mouth, pushing his tongue back into the younger man's mouth. Their teeth clacking as he traced designs with his fingers. Gasping Stiles' moved to pull away. Peter let him, but not before licking his tongue against the younger man's lips whilst still delicately tracing patterns on the Stiles' skin with his hands. They stared at one another, their faces barely inches apart, Peter's hands still on Stiles' body. Their heartbeats were racing and they were breathing hard. Peter pulled away first, stopping the moment before it was soured.

 

Stiles mentally floundered for a moment, not entirely sure what had just happened. He was still lying on his bed in the position Peter had left him in. He had just kissed Peter. Peter. Derek's uncle. Lydia's torturer. Laura's murderer. What had just happened? He blinked and his vision locked onto the other man who was standing a little bit away but was unapologetically leering at him. And Stiles with a blush looked down. He was half lying on the bed propped up on his elbows, his legs spread and his top had risen up. Awkwardly he moved to sit up. Wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball and wrap himself in a blanket but it wouldn't do to appear weak.

 

He coughed trying to diffuse whatever had just happened, Peter the prick was just smirking at him. "What was the other way, you were referring to?" Stiles inquired hating how rough his voice felt.

 

"It's quite simple really." Peter replied his voice deeper than usual and with a start Stiles realised the man was aroused. He shook his head and focused on what the man in front of him was saying and Peter was right about what he said earlier. Stiles hated it.

  

* * *

 

 

The sound of metal scraping against metal. His eyes flew over to the large metal door to the cell they were in. Doctor Conrad Fenris walked in. “Ah, I see you’re now awake Mr. Stilinski. Good Good.” He paused and moved further into the room, “Now I just have a few questions for you.”

 

“Why am I in here?” Stiles interjected, moving from his bed to the see through wall.

 

The doctor blanched slightly, seeming to have been hoping to avoid this conversation, it was silly really, as no one in their right mind wouldn’t have questioned it, even some who weren’t still would have. “Mr. Stilinski, may I call you Stiles?” He shook his head and the doctor continued anyways, “I’m afraid what you did was unprecedented, therefore we’re keeping you here for observation and to make sure there are no relapses.”

 

“Relapses.” Stiles’ expression hardened. “Really?! My friends are out there, trapped! The same people who’ve saved your life and this town over and over again and just because I’ve don’t something inexplicable to you, I can’t be out there helping them?!” His temper over everything that had been happening was getting the better of him. He breathed heavily, reigning it in.

 

“He does have a point.” Peter drawled from his bed, his eyes fixed on his book as if he was still pretending to read.

 

“I’m afraid my hands are tied, now I need you to answer these questions and then I’ll get back to you in a bit over what is going to happen.” And without preamble he launched into the questions, they ranged from what the date was to obscure facts that Stiles wasn’t sure anyone would know. All in all, it took the better part of an hour. “That’s that then, I just have one final question, Mr. Stilinski.”

 

He rolled his eyes, after everything else; he didn’t see why another question mattered. “Go on.” He sighed from where he was sitting, and tapping a pattern with his hand on his raised leg. His back leaning against the cold hard concrete wall, they must think we weren’t a danger to ourselves in here; either that or they don’t care. Hell, most of the occupants can probably just heal themselves.

 

“τι είναι η ζωή?”

 

“η ζωή είναι θάνατος.” Stiles answered automatically, and blinked after the words had left his mouth. He had no idea what he had just said. He didn’t wasn’t even sure he recognised the language, it wasn’t Latin which was the more typical language in bestiaries or in his many research binges.

 

Doctor Fenris paled and jotted something down on his clipboard. “Thank you Mr. Stilinski. That will be all.”

 

He moved to go and Stiles was at the glass, “What does that mean!?” He shouted at the retreating figure. “You’re keeping me here, against my will to observe me. The least you could do is tell me what it is you are so afraid off.”

 

Doctor Conrad Fenris was very tired and torn; on the one hand he hated both Mr. McCall and Mr. Stilinski for opening his eyes to the world around him. But on the other, he was indebted to them. Sighing he looked over his shoulder at the boy behind him, his hands were pressed up against the wall as if, if he pressed hard enough he’d pass right through. “I’m afraid of the end of the world as we know it. Mr. Stilinski. I’m afraid of the end and I’m afraid of how you might have started it.” And with a sad expression he turned and walked out of the cell, nodding to the guards to close and lock the door behind him, ignoring the shouts coming from behind him.

 

“The end of the world?!” Stiles yelled, “What is that meant to mean? Answer me!” And in a fit of anger he pounded on the wall in front of him, yelling. Not stopping even when the door slammed in front of him.

 

He felt a hand on his shoulder pulling him away from the wall and then they wrapped their arms around him and he was surrounded by warmth. He hadn’t realised how much he was shaking, and he lifted his sore arms up to grab the shirt of the man holding him. He broke. Tears streamed down his face as he buried his head in the man’s chest. Peter looked at the young man in his arms fondly, that is for him and just held him. Absently rubbing his hands up and down the man’s back in a soothing gesture. Minutes passed before Stiles gulping for air, moved away and wiped his eyes. Neither of them mentioned what had just happened. Peter moved away, sensing that Siles wanted some space and picked up his book from where he’d dropped it and settled in to finding his place again.

 

Stiles moved over to the concrete wall and leant his forehead against it, calming himself over what had just happened. He needed to get it together. He could worry later. He could do everything later. All that mattered right now was the others. But he couldn’t help himself from asking, “Do you know what he meant?”

 

Peter froze, “I’m not an expert of all things supernatural as some would believe. I’m well versed but I’m not an encyclopaedia. That said I have an inkling of what it is about.” Peter paused, gathering his thoughts. “There are legends of the all-seeing ones. As their name describes they can see everything, the past, present and future of a person by looking in their eyes.”

 

“Great, they’re the original psychics.” Stiles quipped unable to help himself as he turned to face Peter, still leaning his back against the rough wall needing its support.

 

“As sarcastic as that was, it is quite apt. But with one major distinction, they would use their powers to torment and change the outcome to match their own ends. They nearly destroyed the world. Before their kind were exterminated. And I mean in all possible ways, there were no descendants left; they purged records of how to become one and of their time of this earth. They were so terrified they wanted there to be no mention of them.” Peter exhaled slowly, “I only ever came across hints at them for so long. They piqued my interest but when I finally found out more. I wanted nothing to do with it. I purged the book and all the references from my library as well as a few other things. Not wanting any of my family.” He stuttered a bit over the words, “To stumble across the information. I hid it. I did my damned-ness to forget it. I don’t remember more than that and I don’t want to.”

 

Stiles stared at his cellmate, he was pale and Stiles could swear he was shaking, “You’re afraid of them.”

 

“Yes.” Peter breathed, “Is it so incredulous that I am afraid of something?”

 

“Quite frankly; yes.”

 

Peter laughed drolly, “The medicine they have me on does help with clarity, as much as I wish it didn’t. But I was afraid when I first laid eyes on him.”

 

So why did you stand in-between us? Stiles wondered as he crossed his arms, crushing his hands underneath his armpits trying to control the urge to tap. “Great.”

 

Peter looked over at him, his expression unreadable. “I’ll tell you were I put the books. It matters not to me now. Besides you seem to need them.” Peter thought for a moment, “You know, the nogistune was probably one of the few creatures around that would probably know anything about them.”

 

Stiles shuddered, “That topic is off limits, Peter.”

 

“As you wish.” Peter said, “Now. Considering how you’re probably going to be released soon, it probably would be a good idea to start on this plan.”

 

Stiles hesitated and Peter narrowed his eyes at him, “Unless you’d rather give the Fae what they are asking for, whatever that is.”

 

“No.” Stiles responded, “What do we have to do.”

 

“As I said earlier, I don’t have the time to teach you what you can and can’t do at least not in the traditional manor.” He lifted a hand and claws shot out from where his nails had been, “It requires linking our minds.”

 

“Oh hell no.” Stiles responded, “I’ve already had two nutjobs raiding around in here and razing it. No way am I letting a third in.”

 

“We already discussed it. I will be no more in your head as you will be in mine. It is a connection, a link, with neither party having more power.” He paused and grimaced, “In fact out of the two of us. You’ll probably have more power than I.” Peter could tell his words were having very little effect. “Besides, I won’t be in your head; I can only observe what you let me or send to me and vice versa.”

 

Stiles looked at him stonily, “What does it entail?”

 

“Your spark. You will be controlling this spell not I.”

 

“Is it permanent? What’s its range?”

 

“Yes. But there is a spell to undo it; that I will teach you at the same time. There’s no limit. The mind plane isn’t an actual place, why would distance affect it?”

 

Stiles nodded to himself, before his mouth spat out the next question before his mind caught up, “This isn’t a mate bonding thing is it? Sure sounds like something the supernatural would cook up.”

 

“No it isn’t, though mates have used it before now. Mating requires a heart and a soul bond and for the two in question to actually mate. This is a pure mind bond.”

 

“How do you even know it will work, neither of us are that stable, besides I’m human.”

 

“Oh my dear Stiles. I think we both know by now that the term human means very little when applied to you anymore.”

 

“As for the stability of our minds, it might actually help.”

 

“Help how?” Stiles questioned his suspicions raised.

 

“Our defences aren’t as ordered as they should be, making the link easier to create and I’d venture a guess that the door to your mind is still wide open.” Peter looked away, “Also, I won’t lie, there have been cases where this has been used to help stabilise the minds of those involved. The book I found this enchantment in detailed how a young witch had used it to link her mind to a friend of hers who had gone insane and fit the pieces back together again.”

 

“So you’re hoping I’ll cure you.”

 

Peter scoffed, “Nothing as contrived as that I assure you. I simply want to feel sane again. Besides, if we do this I can teach you how to close that door. None of the others have mentioned it have they? Deaton didn’t offer to help with that or with your spark.”

 

Stiles looked at the werewolf sitting opposite him. He knew too much for his own good. Though he wondered how many people thought that about him. “They don’t mention what happened at all. I’m just lucky that all the security footage of what happened was sabotaged.”

 

“And that all the witnesses are dead.”

 

“Some survived.” Stiles snapped angrily.

 

“Yes, but those were the ones who had no idea about you. It’s quite lucky wouldn’t you say , given how the nogistune so bent on destruction and chaos, didn’t destroy your life as much as it could have.”

 

“I doubt it would have wanted to be on the run, it had too much fun playing the innocent.” Stiles shook his head and pushed away from the wall, “We’ve moved off topic.”

 

“Yes, but I bet barely anyone has talked to you about this.”

 

“And?  As I said, the topic is off limits.”

 

Peter just smiled, “Well then, shall we get on with it? Or do you want to forgo our bargain?”

 

Stiles froze and absently licked his dry lips, “What would that entail?”

 

“It’s a Fae deal that you reneged on. What do you think?” Peter responded, starting to question the intelligence of his cellmate.

 

Stiles sighed, “You tricked me.”

 

“Yes. Are we doing this or not?”

 

“What do I have to do?”

 

Peter smiled and sat on the floor between the two cots and gestured for Stiles to join him. He moved to sit facing the werewolf and crossed his legs. “Now you’ll need to be able to say this chant perfectly and I can’t lead you through it when you’re actually casting it. So repeat after me.” It took Stiles the better part of half an hour before Peter was pleased enough with Stiles’ pronunciation.

 

Peter grimaced, “It’s nothing great but it will do. I need your hands for this, we need to join the tips of our fingers and you cannot let go until you’ve completed the chant, even if it hurts.”

 

“Will it?”

 

Peter smirked, “Honestly, I have no idea.”

 

“Will this whole thing work?” Peter continued smirking and Stiles rolled his eyes, “You don’t know. Joy.”

 

“You read then?” Peter said almost gleefully but that couldn’t be possible, Peter didn’t do glee, manic bragging yes, but glee?

 

Stiles pushed the ridiculous thoughts from his head and nodded, raising his hands to touch the tips to Peters outstretched ones. He had lovely hands. Stiles blinked and pushed that thought away as well.  Centring himself and closing his eyes, he could feel the warmth of the other man’s fingers on the tips of his.

 

He took a deep breath and then started chanting, “Animo et cogitatione mentis cogitationem. Nos in aliis nostris. Nec habent partem aut vincere, sed et imperitos docete libere. Animo et cogitatione mentis cogitationem.” He said and repeated it over and over again his voice raising as he did. He felt something build in the air around him and a current zapped through him, originating from their joined fingers.  He could no longer stop the words from leaving his mouth, they tore out with such force it felt like he was setting them free, just when he thought the incantation had reached its peak, he felt a lance of pain that forced his eyes open. They met Peter’s, the same pain reflected in the others. In synchronisation they looked down at their hands, the tips were glowing and bleeding. They glanced back up at each other. Stiles still speaking the words and then everything fell silent. All that could be heard was their breathing. And then they both collapsed.

  

* * *

 

                                   

When Stiles woke up again in his cell something was different. He was still on the floor this time. He blinked around and saw Peter lying next to him, still unconscious.

 

 _“Why do I keep passing out?”_  Stiles questioned, he looked down at his hands, they were still bleeding and before his eyes they healed, leaving a small silver six sided star-like scar in their place.

 

 _“I don’t know but it is getting old.”_ A voice drifted over into his head.

 

“It worked?” Stiles blurted out loud.

 

“Seemingly.” Peter frowned concentrating, “I can feel you out there like a hovering conscious, but I can’t access any of it.” He blanched.

 

“What is it?” Stiles asked and instead of responding Peter sent an image through the channel Stiles could also feel linking his mind to Peters. It was the image of his consciousness through the eyes of another, it wasn’t a pretty sight. It was dark greys and blacks and felt and looked like it had thorns poking in and out of it. There was a swirling blackness at centre of it, reminiscent of a black hole, drawing everything towards it. It was the door to his mind. _“Yeah, well I’m not the only one.”_ Stiles responded sending an image of Peter’s own back; his conscious smelled vaguely of smoke and was pock-marked with bits missing and other parts completely disconnected from the rest, they floated around him in a strange parody, feigning the illusion of being part of him.

 

 _“Well that’s interesting.”_ Peter responded.

 

_“What a pair we make.”_

 

_“Now, before we do anything else, let’s close that door. How you survived the Fae with it open I’ll never know.”_

_“What should I do?”_

_“What feels right. All I’m doing is showing you images, it is specific for you.”_

_“Let me try something.”_ Stiles stated before he felt about in his own mind for a dark area he wanted to avoid, it felt so empty. And ever so slowly he forced it back.

 

 _“That’s working, whatever you did then, it shrunk.”_ Peter responded, sending an image with it.

 

Stiles continued doing so, forcing the black out and closing the wound on his mind. It was slow going and he could feel a headache building up, but it was working. He could feel Peter rummaging about in his own mind as if sorting some things out for himself as well. But he let the information seep into the background intent on what he was doing.

 

_“You’ve nearly closed it.”_

 

Stiles smiled at the thought and then with one last push, he felt something click and with a snap, things felt clearer and more structured.

 

_“It’s closed. How do you feel?”_

_“Better, much better.”_

_“You look better too.”_ Another image accompanied it, Stiles’ consciousness was still dark and cloudy with spikes protruding and impaling it, but the dark maw in the centre of it that had shone like a beacon was gone. Without it his mind looked terribly uninviting to dark creatures.

 

_“What were you working on? I could feel you moving around in there. This is all very strange.”_

_“Yes it is. Ah, I was trying to reconnect to the parts of my conscious floating around, but it seems I can’t at least not on my own or at the moment.”_

_“Want me to help?”_

_“No, its fine, we need to get started on teaching you. I was assembling a load of information for you. But I’m worried that it’s too much for you.”_

_“You, worried?”_ Stiles retorted disbelief colouring his tone, _“Besides, I feel fine, my heads a bit sore but that is it.”_

 

“Stiles.” A voice said in the real world, Stiles blinked himself out of the mental plane.

 

“What?” He asked looking at the werewolf in front of him.

 

“You’re bleeding.” Peter gestured with his hand to Stiles’ nose.

 

Stiles reached up and felt the blood trickling down, wiping it he cursed, “Damn.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and tipped his head back. “I think I overdid it with forcing the door closed.”

 

Peter nodded his expression grave.

 

 _“What’s wrong?”_ Stiles asked instinctively reaching out mentally, so many more emotions could be shared this way and it was exhilarating.

 

“It’s nothing Stiles.” Peter got up from the floor and lifted Stiles up as well, depositing young man on his cot. “Just get some rest for now.”

 

Stiles was about to respond when the door opened and an orderly came in. He raised an eye at Stiles’ nosebleed. Peter had disappeared to the other side of the room using his werewolf enhanced speed before he’d entered. The orderly frowned and disappeared into the hallway, only to remerge a couple minutes later with a first aid kit. He passed it through the slot and waiting for Stiles to sort himself out. There was nothing sharp or any drugs inside it, just antiseptic and cotton balls, wipes and plasters. He sighed but wiped the blood away and too some more cotton balls and tissues just in case before passing it back through. At least the bleeding had stopped now.

 

“Do you need the Doctor?” The orderly asked with a zombie like intonation.

 

“No, it’s fine.”

 

“What happened?” He asked glancing at the werewolf.

 

“Nothing, I just get nosebleeds sometimes.” Stiles replied.

 

The orderly nodded and them shrugged to himself before passing the dinner trays through the slot and watched them eat, before taking the plastic trays back and leaving them alone again.

 

“Cheery fellow wasn’t he?” Stiles quipped, turning to look at Peter when he didn’t respond.

 

“We need to get started.”

 

Stiles nodded and situated himself on the comfier bed, he didn’t need his legs going numb again. He delved down into the mind plane, as Peter had referred to it earlier and met the werewolf there. Peter was more brisk than he’d been with him since he’d arrived. But Stiles didn’t really care. He didn’t. They swapped information. Though it was more Peter telling him he was an idiot an informing him what the truth was. The one good or bad thing, depending on how you looked at it, about the connection was it was impossible to lie. Rather it was possible but the other would know you were. Skirting the truth was something they both excelled at, even to themselves. So it came as no surprise when they did so now. And so they sat there pushing and pulling their consciousness’s until they were comfortable with one another. As comfortable as two people are when sharing thoughts with someone they’ve both tried to kill before.

 

The next morning Stiles woke to an embarrassed and apologetic Doctor Fenris and bid Peter farewell. He was greeted by an enraged Alan Deaton upstairs and led out into the real world. The whole time Peter talking in his head.


	2. The Fae Realm.

  
Stiles was filled with relief the moment he stepped off the grounds of Eichen house. He’d ended up spending decidedly longer than intended in there and had left with an interesting conundrum. Peter.

 

_“It’s been so long since I’ve seen the outdoors, though humans truly do have horrible eyesight.”_

_“It’s only been a couple of months. Just because I don’t have supernatural senses doesn’t mean its poor. Besides I can always cut you off from my vision, if you wanted.”_

_“No. It’s fine. I’ll take it. So where are we going? Straight into danger?”_

_“Why is it that I’m suddenly terrified with how eager you now sound?”_

 

 _“Because you know me.”_  Peter responded flippantly.

 

Stiles ignored him and turned his attention back to Deaton, this was going to take some getting used to. “What have I missed?”

 

Deaton was frowning, “I’m sorry for what happened in there-.”

 

“It’s fine. I don’t particularly want to talk about it. But I have what we need, assuming the situation hasn’t changed?” Stiles interrupted, brushing aside the worry aimed at him.

 

“I’m afraid it has. The Fae Queen is annoyed with you. Apparently she expected you to give her something and the fact that you haven’t...” Deaton trailed off when he saw Stiles’ expression.

 

“I knew that would happen, but I am not giving her what she asks for unless there is no other choice. Hell I went to Peter!”

 

_“I resent that implication”_

 

 _“Quiet you_.” Stiles mentally snapped and he could hear indistinct grumbling in his mind, which was very strange. He inwardly shuddered.

 

“I have to admit I am curious.”

 

Stiles raised an eyebrow at Deaton, “I’m not saying what it is. Nor is she from the sounds of things and I am under no obligation to do so. Least of all to you.”

 

Deaton nodded and then continued from earlier, “I didn’t know what would happen in there and I was dead set against you going Stiles.” Deaton paused, “I’m trying to help.”

 

Stiles froze and whispered, “Why didn’t you help me close the door in my mind?”

 

Deaton blanched, “I don’t have the capabilities to do so.”

 

“Bullshit.” Stiles cried out before he sighed and visibly forcing himself to calm down he continued, “Sorry, being in there has gotten to me a bit. Look, I’m going to head home and clean myself up, I’ll meet you and the others at the clinic in an hour okay?” And without waiting for a response he walked to his car, leaving Deaton staring after him a pained expression on the older man’s face.

 

Stiles angrily opened the door to his jeep and clambered inside; he barely remembered the drive home. His mind was going a dime a dozen and even Peter dared not interrupt. His dad’s cruiser wasn’t home which was unsurprising; he opened the front door and went inside, methodically locking it behind him for what good it’d do, before trudging up the stairs. He shoved Peter from his mind, so there was only the faintest trace there. He then stripped and jumped in the shower. The hot water did wonders for his stress levels. He scoured himself with scalding water and soap, trying to get the feeling of Eichen House off of himself. When he finally felt clean he got out and redressed in fresh clothes and he sat at his desk, methodically running through everything that had happened to him in the past week. He was so tired. Slowing his breathing and using a meditation practise that he’d been taught after his mother’s death, to combat his panic attacks. Stiles' had been terrified to use it whilst the nogistune had been around but he needed the clarity. He delved inwards and lost track of time, when he came out of his mind he was much calmer and was still sitting at his desk. Tentatively he let Peter back in.

_“That was rude.”_

_“I was showering.”_

 

There was a pause and then,  _“And?”_

_“You are incorrigible.”_

_“Again, and?”_

 

Stiles sighed, “ _Can this plan work?”_

_“Never know unless we try.”_

_“Great, I’m taking optimism 101 from a clinically insane werewolf.”_

_“You asked,”_  Peter scoffed, before saying,  _“You should get going soon, what are you going to tell them?”_

_“I’ll find out what they know first and deal with that.”_

_“Clever.”_

_“Why thank you.”_  Stiles said rolling his eyes whilst grabbing his things, stuffing them into an old rucksack and leaving the house, again methodically locking up behind him before he drove to the clinic.

 

The others were waiting for him when he arrived; Deaton, Braeden and Allison. They were in the back room, gathered around the operating table which had one of their many maps of Beacon County laid out on top of it. This one had marks on it detailing the Fae sightings and machinations. He placed his backpack on the ground, leaning it against the leg of the table.

 

_“I thought you said you went as a pack?”_

_“We did.”_

_“Then why are some of your pack still here?”_

_“Take another look.”_

_“Of course, the hunters stayed away, smart. You should have done the same.”_

 

“Are you okay, Stiles?” Allison asked, putting a hand on his arm, he smiled at her tentatively. But the memory of a sword plunging into her haunted him. If it wasn’t for Chris Argent knowing something was wrong and calling in a favour that got a trained medical professional there before even Chris had arrived she would be dead and Stiles would have killed one of his best friends.

 

He shook his head at her and whispered later to her, before turning to the rest, “So what did I miss?”

 

“There was a flooding on Main Street, no deaths but people were injured. A forest fire that nearly hit the town, a couple outlying properties weren’t as lucky. Some burns but still no deaths. That’s a blessing at least.” Braeden rattled off analytically.

 

Stiles frowned eying the map appreciatively. “Have we gotten any word from the Fae Queen or the others?”

 

“No.” Allison stated tonelessly but her eyes betrayed her, she was worried.

 

“Hey, we’ll get them back okay?” Stiles said to her, returning the comforting gesture from earlier and putting his hand on her arm.

 

“Stiles, you mentioned having a plan earlier?” Deaton interjected.

 

Stiles nodded and he told them the beginning. They didn’t like it. He didn’t tell them the rest.

 

“Stiles it’s too dangerous.” Allison cautioned.

 

He chuckled ruefully, “Anything we do is dangerous; I went to Peter for crying out loud.”

 

“Yes, without telling us.” She admonished and Stiles winced.

 

_“Yes Stiles, that was a poor thing to do.”_

_“Oh for crying out loud I don’t need that from you right now.”_

_“But it’s fun. I am completely devoid of entertainment here now that you’ve gone.”_

_“Aren’t you getting your old cellmate back?”_

 

Stiles could feel Peter’s shudder pass through him, _“Thankfully no, he’s been quarantined in isolation after what happened. So you’re my only source of entertainment.”_

_“Oh go read your book.”_

_“Can’t, I finished it.”_

 

Stiles sighed and rubbed his tired eyes, “I know it’s a bad option, but frankly we don’t have any other ones.”

 

“What about giving the Fae Queen what she wants?” Braeden asked.

 

“Not an option.” Stiles said with dead certainty and holding her gaze until she looked away.

 

“So what we let you attempt this?” Allison argued, “Its suicide and insanity rolled into one!”

 

“Well it’s in good hands then isn’t it?” Stiles remarked before he could help himself.

 

“Stiles we want to help.” Deaton stated calmly, “Is there any other way?”

 

“Honestly?” Stiles said his gaze focussed on the map in front of him, “No. There isn’t.”

 

The others sighed, “We’re coming with you.” Braeden said and Allison nodded her support.

 

“I can’t stop you.” Stiles responded, “But, you must do exactly what I say, from something as simple as not moving, to fleeing, to doing something morally questionable.” He looked at the two women in front of him, “Do you trust me?”

 

“Yes.” Allison responded not hesitating.

 

 _“Liar.”_  Peter hissed.

_“Shut up!”_

_“What it’s the truth, she answered so fast because she was ready for the question and knew if she took too long then you would feel like she didn’t.”_

_“Either that or she does. If she doesn’t trust me, then at best she’ll get injured and at worst she’ll die, but there’s nothing I can do about that. Short of going without them.”_

 

“I don’t.” Braeden responded, “But I am willing to follow your orders.”

 

Stiles frowned, “You do realise you’ll be going somewhere few dare to tread and most of those that do never return? If you don’t trust me then you’ll join them?”

 

“How do we know what your say is true? You got most of it from Peter.” Braeden hissed.

 

Allison and Deaton both frowned before the former said, “She does have a point Stiles.”

 

 _“Any suggestions would be helpful here.”_  Stiles sent.

 

_“Truth spell?”_

“It’s the truth, I knew a fair bit of lore in general and Peter confirmed and explained some other things. But like everyone he’s not infallible.” Stiles snorted at the last part before turning sheepish and muttering, “Besides I might have used a truth spell on him.”

 

“Stiles.” Deaton said, “Where did you learn that?”

 

Stiles raised an eyebrow at him, “Not from you obviously.”

 

Braeden glanced inquisitively at Deaton and he responded, “If the spell was done correctly then the information given is accurate.”

 

“We have no choice.” Allison commented and shared a look with Braeden who eventually nodded in agreement.

 

“Great.” Stiles drawled, “Let’s go get ready.” He watched the others leave and then turned his attention to the map in front of him, noting the things that had shifted in his absence. Deaton wasn’t joining them which Stiles was thankful for and he was preparing poultices in case they did return. The huntresses were sorting their weapons. He picked up his backpack and left through the back door.

_“Leaving without the gang then?”_

_“What’s it to you?”_

_“Nothing. It’s just do you think you can do this alone?”_

 

Stiles frowned and sat down on a rough half wall made of bricks in the alley way. He wanted to leave without the other. It was safest this way, but he knew he needed their help.

 

“Stiles?” Allison called from inside the doorway.

 

“Out here.” He responded from where he was sitting, silently relieved. He watched as she walked over and joined him sitting on the half wall.

 

“You didn’t go then.”

 

Stiles glanced at her.

 

“I knew you were planning on leaving, I would have let you. I know how I tough it can be.” When she didn’t get a response she looked around, “It is pleasant out here.”

 

Stiles scoffed, “No, it isn’t, we’re sitting on a hard brick wall in a back alley.”

 

Allison frowned at him, “Stiles look around you.”

 

He paused and took a deep breath before doing as she asked. It was a back alley, with rubbish strewn around and graffiti covering the walls. He let his senses wash over him, the graffiti decorating the alleyway was vulgar but intricately interesting and the sounds of people chatting and laughing from a café down the street drifted into his ears, the warmth of the sun soaked into him. He could feel Allison’s gaze on him, he looked at her.

 

She smiled demurely before saying, “It’s human to the core, but it is lovely in its own way. It is the perfect place to experience the world without being part of it.” Stiles recognised the barb for what it was and Allison continued, “What is it that the Fae Queen wants? I won’t tell the others I just. I need to know Stiles. I know I don’t have the right to ask or-.”

 

“You do. Out of everyone you have the right to ask, Allison. I nearly killed you.” Stiles turned his head away; he couldn’t bring himself to look at her.

 

Allison gently placed a hand on his face turning him to see her, “Listen to me. That was not you.”

 

Stiles sighed and moved away but left it as it was; there was no point in arguing it. “As for what the Fae Queen wanted, suffice it to say it would be an exchange, me for them.”

 

“But you said before going to see Peter that you had offered yourself.” Allison asked confused and remembering the argument that had followed, they both winced at the memory.

 

“I did.” Stiles grappled with his thoughts for a moment, “They didn’t want me in that way Allison, what they wanted was two-fold. And I’ll tell you the first but the second. I can’t.” Stiles’ voice broke on the last part.

 

Allison nodded and leaned against him.

 

“She wanted me to submit to her; for all intents and purposes I would have been her pet, her slave.” Stiles stared absently at a piece of graffiti it was a crude rendition of a sunflower, but the usually cheery plant had no effect on him, “I would have done it Allison, to save all of you, I would have done it.”

 

“Stiles no.” Allison wanted nothing more than to reach for her friend but she could see in his body language that he would most likely bolt if touched, “No one deserves to be a slave to the whim of others and after everything you’ve been through you should never had been put in that position.”

 

The corner of Stiles’ mouth quirked upwards slightly in a mocking imitation of a smile, “That’s just it though Ally A, I have been in that position, I know what it would entail and so did the Fae Queen. But she didn’t want to control me; she wanted to own me, for me to be an amusement for their court.” Now that he’d started talking he found he couldn’t stop, “The problem is, is that truthfully she didn’t want me as a slave, what she wanted was worse.”

 

Allison had grown pale, she could feel the aching in her chest as she stared at her friend; he was so pale and gaunt. His eyes were sunken and he looked so defeated that it broke her heart. “The second part.” She breathed out barely above a whisper.

 

“Yeah.” Taking deep breath Stiles recited, “What can be lost and found, but is clear as day and wit can mend?”

 

Allison frowned furrowing her brow, “I hate riddles.”

 

Stiles laughed, “Me too.”

  

* * *

 

They’d ended up triple checking everything and attempted to eat but the food tasted bland and just made the hollow feelings inside of them seem wider.  The tension in the veterinarian’s was palpable and stifling. Leaving the others to their separate tasks, Stiles wondered off out of the operating room and shoved Peter out of his head again; he didn’t need him interjecting things now. He passed the animals in cages and they cowered away, the cats hissed at him. He ducked into a store room and sat on a pile of food bags and took out his mobile. The cell was battered and cracked, a testimony to either carelessness or the lifestyle of its owner. He frowned and scrolled through his list of contacts before hesitating and then dialled one. Shaking he lifted the phone to his ear. His breath rasping as he heard it ring, once, twice and his relief was palpable when it was answered.

 

“Stiles?” 

 

“Yeah. Hi Dad.”

 

“Son. Are you okay?” The Sherriff’s voice was filled with concern.

 

Stiles leant back against the wall of the backroom, his head hitting the wall with a dull thunk and closed his eyes, “I’m fine Dad. Tell me what’s happening with you.” His voice was steady but inside he was pleading, don’t ask me about it, I can’t talk about it. I’ll break right now if I do. I just need to hear your voice.

 

His father somehow understood, “Well with all this Fae stuff going on it’s been a nightmare, we’re running one way trying to sort out animals that have been changed colour, to trying to rescue people from fires on the other side of town.”

 

“Everyone’s okay though?”

 

“Yes. There have been no deaths so far. But son, the last time was close, very close.” The Sherriff sighed, “I’m not sure how much longer we can keep up.”

 

“You have to dad, just for a bit longer. I have a plan.”

 

“Of course you do.” A pause before he continued, “But Stiles this isn’t up to you. I know it’s selfish of me but I want you to promise me that you’ll survive. Whatever it takes.”

 

“I’ll try and come back to you dad, but I if I can help others that is what I will do.”

 

“I know son, I know. You are just like your mother, stubborn and kind. Just, don’t let it destroy you.”

 

Stiles chucked dryly, “I think I’m more like you, loyal to a fault but will do whatever it takes to get things done right.”

 

His father echoed his laughter for a moment before it died off and the conversation turned serious again, “You do what you have to son. I’m proud of you. I love you.” Drifted over the phone line, unnaturally subdued and then the line went silent. Stiles had sat there in the back room in the dim lighting for too long, staring down at the phone clenched in his hands. He could feel the build-up of tears that threated his control and if a couple slipped through, who could blame the young man who had sadness and resentment floating around him in a miasma of pain.

 

Stiles lifted his head and took a breath, slid his phone back in his pocket and walked back towards the operation room, passing the frightened animals. He grabbed a drink of water from the cooler on the way and leant against a steel counter slowly sipping at it, barely tasting the liquid and not making eye contact with any of the others in the room. Braeden was polishing her guns and Allison was checking over her arrows. Deaton was watching them and his expression was unreadable.

 

Stiles let Peter back into his mind and half an hour later,  _“It’s time.”_  Peter urged. Stiles righted himself from his perch against the counter and echoed Peter, spurring the others into action.

 

Deaton looked grim from his position leaning against the side of the doorway, Stiles could see the anteroom behind him, “Are you sure you want to do this? It is a foolhardy choice.”

 

“Yes because you’re always the advocate of good decisions.” Stiles responded, “We’ve been over the lack of choice right?” He just wanted his pack back.

 

“Stiles is right.” Allison said, “We need to do this.”

 

Braeden just nodded and finished equipping her arsenal of weapons.

 

“Very well then.” Deaton acquiesced, “Follow me.” He picked up the bowl full of ingredients that had been sitting on the operating table and walked out the back door.

 

The trio shared a wary glance before gathering the last of their things and following. It was now twilight outside the perfect time in between day and night, when the veil between dimensions is thinnest and it is easier to travel. Deaton was standing in front of a tall brick wall that was still littered with the graffiti from earlier. Only now there was something new; Deaton was drawing on the wall in red with a thick paint brush, it was a large symbol taller than Deaton and wide enough for two men to stand abreast. Stiles wasn’t sure he wanted to know what the paint was made of, but the information came to him anyways; crushed berries and lambs blood combined with a mixture of other herbs, it cut through any of the other graffiti as if the previous art wasn’t there. The others watched with apprehension. Deaton finished the drawing and he slowly knelt in front of it and unpacked the other ingredients. Again Stiles was supplied with the information: there was a candle to focus the energy; a pouch of mistletoe which is said to harbour the properties of the Fae; a smudge stick and Fae powder to help them gain access to the right plain. How Deaton had any of this stuff and in such quantities was a mystery. The Fae powder alone must be worth a small fortune.

 

Deaton mentally lit the lavender candle and lowered the smudge stick of benzoin and comfrey using the candle’s flame to light it. Starting at the bottom of the symbol and working his way up he wafted the smoke around him; purifying and preparing the air. He then sprinkled the mistletoe and the Fae powder into the contents of the bowl which were the same dark red he’d been painting the wall with and using the smudge stick he set it the liquid on fire. A rumbling sound came from his chest as Deaton closed his eyes and then started to chant in a flowing tripping tone that echoed too far off places and ages past;

 

“Trí na plánaí an domhain taistil againn . Tríd an bhás an am agus cuimhne againn pas a fháil. Deontas dúinn rochtain ar an domhan cuardach againn do. Chun pas a fháil trí arís mar sin chun teacht ar an méid dúil againn.”

 

As he spoke the words the others felt the world start to shift and shake around them but to their eyes nothing moved. Absently Stiles grabbed Allison’s arm and she looked over at him, attempting a smile but it was too forced. As soon as the rolling sensation was gone a white swirling light started at the centre of the symbol on the wall, growing outwards twisting around as it did until it filled the symbol on the wall. Whispers hissed around them echoing the words Deaton was chanting and then there was silence and Deaton slumped forward. Braeden leaped forward and caught the older man before he toppled head first into the now open portal.

 

The veterinarian blinked and shook his head accepting Braeden’s help and thanking her he stood up.

 

“How long will it last?” Allison asked.

 

Deaton sighed and without realising it he used Braeden for support she rolled her eyes in mock annoyance but one could not mistake the worry in her eyes. “I don’t know, but it isn’t safe to leave it open. Anything could come through. I’m afraid I’ll have to close it after you go.”

 

“Will you be able to open another one?”

 

Deaton shook his head, “No, to do so without a period of rest would probably kill me, besides. I don’t know when you would need it. I’m afraid that as soon as you pass into the realm you will be completely on your own.”

 

 _“It is a feat to open one such doorway, if only I’d known the man had this type of power before.”_  Peter’s musing reached Stiles, who shuddered at the thought.

 

Wouldn’t be the first time we were on our own, Stiles thought to bitterly to himself. “Thank you Deaton.” Sharing an unexplainable look with the dark skinned man who held his gaze and nodded, Deaton pushed himself away from Braeden and stood on his own accord but you could see the tremors running through him and he looked strained.

 

“Perhaps I should stay?” Braeden said haltingly.

 

Deaton raised a hand in a placating manner, “No I’ll be fine, besides you need to go after Derek.”

 

“Time to go.” Stiles said ending the conversation he walked forward, careful not to disturb the items still aflame on the ground in front of the portal. Stiles gazed at the wonder in front of him, its light reflected in his dark eyes before steeling himself he stepped through. It was agony. As if millions of little needles were stabbing into him and trying to worm their way under his skin and then he moved forward and the needles slipped away and he spun until he didn’t know which direction made sense anymore before the needling sensation took over him again and he stumbled out on the other side. On shaking legs he moved away from the portal and bent over gasping for air, his vision fading in and out. The oxygen helped to clear his head and he looked over to watch the portal for the others his skin still raised and sore but glancing down he saw there were no marks on him.

 

 _“What was that?”_  He sent to Peter.

 

_“Ah, it was the portal I had heard tell of them being painful, was it not last time?”_

_“No.”_

_“I see. My guess would be it was because you had invitations to be there.”_

Stiles didn’t dignify that with a response and even if he wanted to Allison came through the portal shaking and holding herself.

 

“Woah there, you’re alright Allison. Listen to my voice.” Stiles said calmingly making sure not to get to close, “Breathe, just breathe. In and out. In and out. In and out.” He repeated until he felt her breathing match his words and became calmer.

 

He sighed and looked towards the portal only to instinctively duck as Braeden was launched from the swirling light and hit the ground nearby.  A painful gasp came from her as Stiles rushed over to her, still careful to keep his distance. There was nothing more likely to evoke an unexpected and unrestrained response than crowding someone who was panicked.

 

“What the bloody hell was that?” Braeden shouted and slowly got to her feet.

 

“You fought it.”

 

“Of course I did you idiot! Why didn’t you tell us?”

 

“I didn’t know it would be like that, it wasn’t last time.” He sighed, “Next time don’t do that, you’re probably lucky the portal didn’t spit you out somewhere else.”

 

“Where are we?”

 

Stiles heard Allison ask and he glanced over his shoulder she had an arrow notched in her bow but it was pointed down and undrawn, showing her unease. He glanced around them, “That is a very good question.”

 

At first glance they were in what appeared to be a normal meadow with wild flowers and thick old trees surrounding it. Only the colours of the grass and sky were too rich and exquisite to ever be mortal and the trees swayed in contrast to one another and the rustling of their leaves were whispers to faint for mortal or even supernatural ears to catch. With a crackling snap the white energy portal folded in on itself behind them, leaving the trio stranded in another dimension, with no way of knowing where anything was. Let alone themselves.

 

“So, what do we do now?” Allison asked and it echoed out louder that she intended only to be swallowed by the trees and their unintelligible whispering grew in volume. A frown marred her usually bright disposition, talking might not have been the best idea.

 

Braeden’s widened and she shook her head as she slowly and silently drew her weapon before nodding towards Stiles. He grimaced and ducked his head slightly before looking around, the meadow had no discernible differences at any of the edges, and it was startling in its similarities, which made him nervous,  _“Any suggestions?”_

_“Why Stiles, I thought you were never going to ask me.”_

_“And?”_ Stiles asked annoyance creeping into his tone.

 

_“And, I am not sure, but you might as well move, standing there won’t get you anywhere.”_

Stiles scowled and looked up above the trees; the sky was a grey white colour the perfect mid-point between the two realms. Now to figure the way to the dark realm, unsure he turned around quietly facing the different directions in the hope of sparking some clue. He delved inwards and barely touching his spark he felt the currents of the air. Gasping he withdrew and bent over, that slight touch was too much, it had overwhelmed his senses and made him want to cry out, not unlike the need of a banshee’s scream.

 

 _“Stiles!”_ He could feel Peter’s voice echoing through the cloud in his mind, sensing a peculiar touch of concern; he shrugged away the contact too intent on trying to clear his mind of all the information.

 

“Remind me not to do that again.” He whispered becoming aware of the soothing hand resting on his back.

 

“What did you do?”

 

“I touched the world with my spark,” Stiles grimaced, “Come on, it’s this way and we need to hurry.” And without another word he walked away his footstep silent.

 

“Why do we need to hurry?” Braeden asked speaking up.

 

“Because creatures will wonder what that was.”

 

“So you lit a bonfire for all to see?”

 

“Not all, but none whom we would want to meet.”

 

Anger flashed in Braeden’s eyes, “How dare you!”

 

“Be quiet!” Stiles hissed back at her, “We needed information and I got it, now we need quiet and get away from here, am I understood?”

 

For a long moment the two of them stared at one another anger simmering in their gazed, but Braeden grudgingly nodded in agreement. Stiles returned the nod and then turning around he walked out of the field and led the hunters into the foliage surrounding them and into darkness.

 

It took a moment for their eyes to adjust, even though they had just been in a well-lit clearing, the brush was dense and unforgiving. The whispering of the trees grew around them. Stiles glanced around warily, watching the foliage as if the vines and leaves were live snakes raring to attack him. The two huntresses followed him silently, if it wasn’t for the almost imperceptible sense of their presence he would have no idea they were behind him.

 

 _“So, you’re supposed to be very knowledgeable of the Fae. Impart thy knowledge.”_ Stiles mentally hissed at Peter.

 

_“Patience my dear, it’s unbecoming to rush.”_

 

_“Either you tell something if use now or I turn back.”_

_“Come now, Stiles. We both know you won’t do that. You care too much about your friends.”_

 

Without speaking or signalling he shoved his conscious into Peter’s, using his rage and agony on the broken wolf. He pushed against the thorny barriers of Peter’s mind, wincing from the stabbing pain that echoed through his attack. Stiles drew his conscious back and sent part of it to slam against the other’s mind again. The rest of his conscious slipped imperceptibly around to another section and seeped in as if mist drawn by the wind. He was buffeted by heat and Stiles stopped thinking; he acted. Twisting his form into an ice storm and battered Peter’s mind. He could hear a roar rolling through the plain around them. Setting his thoughts firmly Stiles rammed the storm through the werewolves’ mind. It was startlingly quiet after the last barrier had fallen and Stiles could see a small broken wolf floating in the air in front of him.  Stiles wished he could roll his eyes in this form,  _“Attempting to fool me, won’t work Peter.”_ The wolf shifted and grew into the solid shape of a man with ice cold eyes. Stiles moved forward and his storm coalesced into a pale hand that reached for the man’s throat. The older man didn’t move and Stiles stepped forward out of the storm fully and grasped the wolf-man’s throat.  _“Show me.”_ He commanded bearing down on Peter. Something flickered in the other mans’ eyes, at first it appeared to be echoing anger and pain, but something else was in its countenance; triumph. Stiles stopped, a sickening feeling rising up inside of him. He was forcing someone to impart knowledge by tearing his way into their mind. The younger boy stumbled backwards, refusing to take and rip away the knowledge buried in Peter’s mind.

 

 _“Temper, temper.”_ Peter laughed,  _“I knew there was a reason I liked you and your lack of morality.”_ Peter shifted and rubbed his throat and Stiles could feel Peter’s shudder running through him.

 

There was a couple of beats of silence were the two regarded one another in the recesses of Peter’s mind. If Stiles wanted he could explore as he wished. And part of him wanted to, needed to and it took everything he had to stop the urge from taking over. Peter was regarding Stiles itching to rearrange some of his plans but to do so now would be folly.  It felt like ages had passed before Peter sent his acquiescence and ever so slowly and carefully Stiles withdrew the brunt of his mind from Peter’s, attempting to not damage things further and letting the older wolf gather his thoughts.

 

_“The Fae are a  predominantly matriarchal society that value vastly different concepts unfathomable to humans.”_

 

_“You’re not human.”_

 

_“I’m not Fae either.”_

 

_“And? I’m waiting for information that I don’t know Peter.”_

_“Fae used to be whole. Equal in both light and dark and were being considered to mainly exist in the grey. Though I suppose you would argue that they are still grey by a human standpoint.”_

_“Get on with it.”_

Peter rolled his eyes,  _“They are immortal creatures or at least they live so long that we could never understand their concept of time. The concept of Time itself, travels differently in the realm of the Fae. But how is a mystery, time seems quicker in the Fae realm but those not born to it don’t appear to age there, though that has never been tested.”_

_“I’m sure you’d love to.”_

_“Live forever? Why I’ve contemplated the idea but it’s not on the top of my priorities.”_

_“No, power is.”_

_“As it is yours.”_ Peter said and Stiles could feel the taunting emanating from the words and he refused to dignify it with a response.  _“It’s written all over you boy, you yearn for the ability to protect yourself and your friends and what is that but power?”_

_“Get back to the point.”_

_“Touched a nerve, have I?”_ Peter drawled,  _“Make no mistake boy, I know just as much about you as you do I.”_

Stiles shivered the sick feeling of how he was sharing his conscious with another terrified him more than he’d ever reveal. He had a sinking feeling the other knew just how much he couldn’t handle this. But he held on. He had no choice. At least none of which, that he would be willing to make.  _“Get back on topic, Peter.”_

 

 _“Why of course, my master.”_ Peter mocked,  _“Fae all have their specific power sects that are given to them in their names, such as how a nogistune is a chaos spirit and cannot deviate from its constraints of existence. The Fae always speak the truth but the concept of truth is not absolute, so it might not be true for the listener. They are deeply rooted to the earth and have a connection to the elements and all living things.”_

Stiles stopped in his tracks at the mention of the void spirit that had possessed him, recognising that Peter had mentioned it on purpose; the bastard. He stared absently at the forest in front of him, they’d been steadily moving in the direction that was pulling at him. He sighed inaudibly and rubbed his forehead, flinching when a hand landed on his arm. He looked over to see Allison’s questioning gaze. He tried to smile but it turned into more of a grimace before mouthing at her that he was fine. She frowned as if want to question him further, instead she mimed asking how much longer. Stiles shrugged, there wasn’t much else he could do and behind Allison, Braeden rolled her eyes.

 

Stiles motioned for them to wait and gritting his teeth he focussed inward and spread his senses out exceedingly carefully. Only to be answered with nothing, he drew back frowning and just when he was about the say something to the others a shrill scream rang out from the close forest.

 

“What was that?” Allison asked before he could stop her.

 

“Let’s go check it out.” Braeden said.

 

“Yes, let’s go towards the sound of terror, that’s a brilliant plan.” Stiles retorted sarcastically before he could stop himself.

 

“Well if you’ve got a better idea I’m all for it.”

 

Stiles shook his head, “The scream will most likely be some type of Fae attempting to lure us to our death.” He paused and then added as if an afterthought, “Stay away from water and glowing lights as much as possible.”

 

“We can speak now then?” Allison asked.

 

Stiles frowned, “At the moment it should be fine, but use speech sparingly. If we come across anything, let me do the talking?” He glanced over at Braeden more worried about her accepting this that Allison, but she seemed willing to accept his leadership; for now, at least.

 

They started walking and the scream sounded again. He could feel the others getting antsy at the call of terror and pain; all their hunter instincts teaching then either help or kill the creature at the other end of the call. Stiles wondered again whether he was doing the right thing.

 

_“I’ve told you before that you don’t really have a choice, not that you listen to me.”_

_“For good reason, psycho-wolf.”_

_“Ahh a nickname, how quaint.”_

_“It’s not meant as a compliment, you know.”_

_“And?”_

_“Is that the first nickname you’ve ever had or something?”_ Stiles didn’t get a response,  _“Oh my God! It is!”_

_“I’ve never had need for fools who create simple entertainment through the use of names.”_ Peter said emphasising the word ‘simple’.

 

 _“Please,”_ Stiles scoffed,  _“Names have power and both of us know that you would revel in it.”_

_“I suppose there was one exception to that.”_

_“I’m not you Peter.”_

_“I wouldn’t’ be so sure about that. Little red.”_

_“Little red!”_ Stiles sputtered,  _“What on Earth, Peter?”_

_“Why I thought we were sharing nicknames. Are you not little red riding hood, the one who danced and played with wolves and wore red?”_ He paused and even without seeing Peter, Stiles could see the smirk curling the corner of the man’s mouth.  _“Or are you the boy who cried wolf instead?”_

_“Shut up!”_

_“Why such a clever retort, I’m lost for words.”_

_“Now you’re just being sarcastic.”_

_“I thought that was why you liked me; sarcasm is our natural states of being.”_

_“I can tell you something about your natural state of being.”_ Stiles muttered to himself.

 

The young man looked ahead where to the two hunters were stalking; the trees around them were growing steadily darker as they headed further in, the lack of leaves becoming more apparent. Stiles frowned he knew that the concept of time was vastly different in the Fae realm. Night and day didn’t revolve as they did in the human plain; instead you travelled to one or the other. And both the dark and the light held their own mysteries. Something whispered past his ear and Stiles turned sharply trying to catch what it was. He watched the trees carefully but nothing moved and the whispering noise came again. The trees. They’d been found. Stiles moved to stop the others when another scream echoed through the forest. He stiffened his arm half raised as the two women he was with started running. Cursing Stiles shot off after them, nearly losing them in the dense foliage. He knew better than this. He should have known. He should have done something. Stiles darted around trees and ducked under branches that seemed to come out of nowhere, the trees appearing to reach out and grab him. He lost sight of them, there was a break up ahead and he spurred himself forward desperate to reach them in time. He crashed through the trees, wrestling through the branches clinging to him to find a small clearing with a stream running through it.

 

Braeden was in the water and Allison was trying to reach her. Stiles screamed at her to stop, but it was too late and the brunet fell in the water. Stiles stared after them, they were both treading the water trying desperately to stay above. He glanced around wildly and grabbed a long branch from when he’d ripped through the trees lying on the pebbly ground next to him. He scrabbled over to it and using it he reached for the two hunters. Braeden was barely moving now her head tilted backwards.

 

“Damn it!” Stiles swore, “Allison grab onto the branch and then grab Braeden.”

 

Allison nodded and reaching out she scrabbled to make it, her fingers brushing the rough bark. Gritting her teeth she grabbed it and pulled herself forward. She glanced back to find Braeden no longer moving and starting to sink underwater. Allison took a breath before reaching back and grabbing Braeden’s backpack by the straps and pulling her close. She looped her left arm underneath the Braeden’s arms, pulling the limp body of her friend. Allison positioned her so she held Braeden's head over the water. Not giving herself a chance to breath, to struggle, she pulled herself closer to the branch and looped an arm around it. She moved Braeden in front of her and threw her arms over the branch as well using it to support them both. Water dribbled from the mouth of the unconscious woman.

 

Stiles was now sitting on the rocky beach digging his legs into the silt of the shore and holding with all his might. “I can’t pull you out; if I try to I’ll just get pulled in.”

 

“What’re we supposed to do?” Allison rasped her voice quiet and breathy. Every movement was a fight. Her breaths were agony.

 

Stiles glanced around, “Show yourself!”

 

Allison attempted to look about and a current of water hit her in the face, she sputtered slightly and her hands turned white in desperation to hold on.

 

A gurgling sound came from the river further upstream. Stiles frowned at it staring, as the water coalesced into a small shimmering being decorated in shells.

 

“Let them go!”

 

“Why should I? It’s so much fun to watch.” The being exclaimed the gurgling sound emanating from it again. It was laughing. It moved towards Stiles its coat of shells rattling. “Give in to your desires, pull them to shore.”

 

“You’re a goddamn shellycoat you’re meant to be good natured!” Was Stiles’ only response.

 

The creature of water and shells looked at him, “You’re on my territory.”

 

“You drew us here!”

 

The creature shifted and the shells rattled at the movement. “I was curious at the foolish humans wandering the wilds of the Fae.”

 

“We’re trying to get to the court.” Stiles gritted out, his hands and arms straining to hold the branch where it was.

 

“If you wanted the Seelie court, you’re going the wrong way.”

 

Stiles shook his head and the Shellycoat fluidly moved towards him, the rattling setting his teeth on edge. “You want to head into darkness? You are more foolish than I thought.” It gurgled.

 

Shaking with one hand Stiles reached back and drew a shell from a side pocket of his backpack. “I offer you this if you help us.”

 

The mass that was the Shellycoat seemed to stare at him and slowly a wave of water from the creature stopped the pull on the women in the river. It reached out with a watery arm and Stiles handed it the shell. The creature clutched the shell as if it was life itself. “Let me grant you, your wish!” It stretched out and Stiles flinched away but the water soaked him and pulled him into the water, towards his friends. They were pulled under and the branch snapped and bobbed in the still water; the only thing left showing that they were there.

 

 _“Is this what dying is like? It’s strangely peaceful.”_ Stiles thought as he was surrounded by the water and its undulating currents.

 

 _“Stiles. Stiles! STILES!”_ A shout roared through his skull, jerking him awake. Stiles leant over and coughed up water until his lungs burned. It was a deep hacking sound and blurrily he looked over the Shelleycoat was in the water in front of him.

 

“What?” He tried to ask, but the sounds were caught in his sore throat.

 

“I granted you what you asked for, a way to the Unseelie court. Your friends are over there.” It gestured further down the bank.” It shimmed again and seemed to get smaller, “Good luck,” It whispered, before snapping more audibly, “And stay out of my territory.”

 

The young man looked over to where the creature had gestured and lying similarly to himself were Allison and Braeden both of whom were coughing up water.  “What was that?” Allison hissed out her voice hoarse and scratchy.

 

“It was a water goblin; they’re usually more like brownies before they turn into a boggart.” He sighed, “I guess we met the boggart version of it. Thank God.”

 

Braeden frowned, “Why is that a good thing?”

 

“Because, if it had been almost any other river goblin we would be dead.” Stiles responded.

 

“That’s good then, isn’t it?” Allison asked.

 

“I’m not so sure.” Stiles said getting up and looking around. “They like to mislead travellers. So it might have given us what we wanted but with strings attached.”

 

“Like the black mist over there?” Braeden asked her back to the rest.

 

“Exactly like that.” Stiles sighed.

 

They were on a different river bank; with gnarled leafless trees surrounding it on both sides and a seeping miasma coalescing further down river. Screaming and moaning sounds emanated from the heaving mass.

 

“The wild hunt.” Stiles breathed scrambling to his feet, his brown eyes wide with terror.

 

_“Stiles!”_

 

_“What?”_

There a brief pause and then mutedly Peter responded,  _“It took you long enough to respond, please do try not to die on me.”_

_“Little busy at the moment.”_

 

“What does that mean?” Allison said as she moved towards Stiles.

 

“Nothing good.”

 

“Could be less cryptic please?” Braeden snapped as she also moved closer to the duo.

 

“Yes, not all of us are Deatons or random hunters that mark people and then disappear.” Stiles retorted.

 

“Stiles, this isn’t the time.” Allison said, breaking up the confrontation before it escalated.

 

He frowned at the rebuke and still staring fixedly at the mass in front of them explained, “The Wild Hunt, or the Host is a field where damned souls exist, it is patrolled by nightflyers and nighthags. Their only goal is to consume more souls, they delight in taking the innocent and the fate of the consumed is to roam the skies to search for more souls for all eternity.”

 

“Let me guess, they guard the Unseelie Court.” Allison said as she checked over their things.

 

“Yes, there are passes through that we could take that I was hoping to reach, but it’s unlikely that we’ll be able to find them.”

 

“Why?” Allison asked.

 

“Because the Shellycoat delights in misleading travellers,” Braeden responded before Stiles, “So any way we go will probably lead us back here.” She glanced over to see Stiles nodding and continued, “Is there any way to fight them?”

 

Stiles shook his head, “The only know way to get rid of one is to put someone else in its path.”

 

Allison frowned, “How did you happen to have a shell?”

 

Stiles chuckled ruefully, “The only water spirit you can really bargain with is a Shellycoat, it seemed foolish to venture into the Fae realm without a shell.”

 

“What else do you have in that bag of tricks, anything else that can help us travel through that?”

 

“I’m not sure. You guys check over our things and we’ll rest here for a while, whilst I try to figure something out.” Stiles said still staring almost absently at the dense fog in front of them.

  

_“Stiles, you’re near the Slaugh?!”_

 

Stiles flinched, _“Don’t use that word, particularly when I’m this close to them!”_

 

 _“The Despaired Ones.”_  Peter said in horror, _“Stiles, listen to me, you must turn back. This is folly!”_

_“What is with the many different names?”_ Stiles said exacerbated, _“I don’t take orders from you.”_

_“Stiles.”_ There was a pause before Peter said, _“Please.”_

 

Stiles hesitated, _“If you’re not going to tell me anything of use, then there’s no point to this.”_

 

Peter froze, his thoughts racing, this wasn’t the plan. What was he do to? _“The Despaired Ones are blind, deaf and mute. Left to shamble and reap the innocent and nearly dead. The only way to pass by them is to project darkness. Move slowly and keep your movements constrained. No flailing. As for their commanders, there is no hope. Kill them if you get the chance, if not. Then you’re doomed.”_

 

 _“Good to know.”_ Stiles said withdrawing from the contact.

 

Peter looked down at the book in his hands; it was one of his smaller tomes. He traced the black cover with a clawed finger and quoted to himself in a voice barely above a whisper;  

“'Prophet!' said I, 'thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

    Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—

    On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—

Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!'

            Quoth the Raven 'Nevermore.'”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I wanted to apologise for how delayed this was. In my defence, this story keeps growing. And a lot is going on in my life. That said thank you for reading and keeping an interest in my story.
> 
> The poem at the end is decidedly not mine and is by Edgar Allan Poe.


	3. The Field of Torments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry this has taken so long, lots of work and other such things.. Anyways, you'll be glad to know that the next chapter has been written and that will be being uploaded soon. This fic kinda exploded in length on me...

Peter was still staring absently at the book in front of him when the door to his cell slowly opened revealing the contemptuous Dr. Fenris. He put the book down, careful to not move too quickly, as he did not need them upping the dosage of wolfsbane and mistletoe and other pharmaceuticals that they plied him with. He froze whilst starting to stand, and then attempted to cover this, when he noticed the other person entering the room. It was his, once hopefully former, cellmate. There werewolf was dismayed, he did not need another person around whilst he was linked to Stiles, particularly not this person… Although, Peter thought as the idea occurred to him; it could be a good opportunity to find out more information about the all-seeing ones, from one who'd attempted and bastardised their practises. Peter wondered absently if one of those separated clouds of his mind were related to the all-seeing-ones, perhaps Stiles could help locate the memories, but could he trust him to do that?

"You're awfully quiet Peter." Dr. Fenris inquired, he's human gaze intense as if waiting for something to happen.

"I was exposed to a chatterbox for too long, I'm all talked out." He responded sassily.

"Ah yes, how is Mr. Stilinksi?" Dr. Valack's silky voice asked, causing Peter to tense and reflexively glance over the other man, who was bound at the hands and had a metal brace on his head covering the third eye, "He was rather intriguing."

"I wouldn't know, he left yesterday." Peter responded automatically, watching as the 'good' doctor led his cellmate to the door set into the thick glass wall that divided the area.

He unconsciously tensed further, his wolf wanted nothing more than to try to escape - to run wild - as he was shut inside with the third-eyed pseudo-doctor. Dr. Fenris checked over the door and gestured for Valack to put his hands through the small gate that food was delivered by. The doctor unlocked the manacles that bound Valack and picked them up, he then closed the gate and resolutely ignoring the both of them he left the cell, closing the thick metal and mountain ash door solidly behind him. Peter let himself relax slightly, there were no more drugs or questions for now at least, not for the first time he was glad that there were no cameras in the cells themselves, or at least none that he could detect and he had spent days looking when he first arrived.

"Is this the welcome I get then?" Dr. Valack asked moving into the small unpadded room and looking around.

"Seemingly." Peter retorted absently, watching as the other man reached up and removed the brace, the werewolf quickly averted his gaze, this was not going to be fun.

"It's hardly comforting, why Peter, you really need to work on your manner." The man tutted as if they were good friends having a normal conversation. The quasi-cyclopes threw the brace down and started massaging his head, from what Peter could see in the reflected glass. "God, that thing is positively inhumane."

"Yes, because we're all human here, and you are a true delight to converse with." Peter moved his gaze away from the glass, needing something else to focus on, his eyes found the book of poetry that he'd put down on the floor. That was a good thing to use, but he was desperately itching to pick it back up, curl up on his cot and lose himself in the written word and convoluted meanings. But he knew that would end this conversation and if he raised it back up again, he would be in the weaker position and to get what he wanted, he had to seem to have some semblance of control.

"I do think so." The quasi-cyclopes smiled, "I could tell you things about him no one else knows, if you wanted me to, of course."

Peter paused and slowly, barely daring to breathe, he turned and gazed lazily towards the other man, making sure to never make eye-contact - trying to stare at the man's chest instead, in some semblance of a normal interaction - though Peter scoffed at that idea. "What is it exactly that you want?"

"To know more," the doctor had sat down on the other bed, the bed Stiles had used. "In particular about him." Peter felt his hackles rise at the slight possessive tone in the other man's voice.

Peter didn't move, he wanted to lean forward to provoke feelings of confidence and intimacy, to make Valack more susceptible to his manipulations but he knew it would not work. "Ask what you want to know and I will tell you what I can. But, I have questions of my own." He waited as the other man contemplated the offer, he watched through blurred eyes as Valack stroked the pillow, almost absently, before slowly agreeing. Peter thought for a moment and then he pushed against Stiles' mind so that there was only the barest hint of a connection, like Stiles' had done to him before. Peter wasn't sure he wanted Stiles to be present for this, but he was also aware that if he wanted to the other man would be able to push himself into Peter's mind, the wolf in him hated being the weaker one, he paused waiting to see if Stiles would shove himself back into contact… He could feel little red moving around and seeing what Peter had done, but eventually he settled back into his own mind. Peter was confused at this but put the thought to the back of his mind, he didn't want to be distracted right now. He leaned against the wall his cot was against, and gestured for the other man to ask away.

"How did the boy survive the nogitsune?" Valack inquired, he was still stroking the pillow, as if he could clear away the surface to get answers.

"He managed to cast the creature out." Peter replied crisply.

"On his own?" There was a note of disbelief in the pseudo-doctors voice.

"No. Lydia, the banshee that freed Deaton and the alpha Scott helped."

"And you?" Valack intermitted, Peter nodded in response. "But he's human, how would he have the strength?"

"No, he's mostly human," Peter hesitated, wondering if he could say further, it would help him get information. Though who knows what repercussions it would have, or how Stiles would respond, "He's a spark."

"Ah… So he's a spark and a former nogitsune host. Fascinating." The werewolf could just make out the other man's mouth curling at the corners into a highly satisfied smirk. "A nogitsune spark, a banshee and a true alpha." The man chuckled quietly to himself, Peter could barely head this last part what with the drugs he was on.

"Was there anything else?" The werewolf prompted.

"Not right now, but I reserve the right to ask further questions, I want to see how this interacts with the information I got from Stiles earlier." Dr. Valack lay down on the cot, lacing his fingers together on his chest and closed his eyes.

"Before you do, answer my questions." Peter insisted, steel in his voice. The other man opened his left eye - not the third one - and gesture with one hand for Peter to continue. "Why did you try to become an all-seeing one?"

Even being a werewolf Peter barely saw the movement as Valack stood up and moved towards him, "How do you know that term?"

Peter stood stock still against the wall, his arms uncrossed and hands lowered but ready to fight. The other man was halfway across the cell and moving closer. Internally the werewolf frowned, had the man not seen it in his head? He must not have, Peter realised before wondering at the quasi-cyclopes' powers; did that mean that he didn't see everything, was it possible to hide things, did that mean the floating parts of his mind that Peter couldn't access were also not available to Valack? "I read about it years ago, it was a very short passage that didn't really stand out, but after everything that has happened and rooming with you, it made me think of it."

Valack stared at him before nodding once appearing to accept this answer, for now at least, "The all-seeing ones were powerful supernatural creatures, of all species and races," Peter could hear the reverence in the other man's voice, "They ruled over us all, created the order of things and kept peace. But as with everything there were dissenters and eventually they were killed, their rituals and rites were destroyed or erased. I managed to find some rituals… But not enough, it left me warped -." He visibly stopped himself from speaking further, obviously unused to talking about this, perhaps the drugs were affecting him too.

The werewolf had many questions on the tip of his tongue; but he was unsure how to phrase them, and whether or not he could even ask Valack. Nevertheless, he persevered, he needed to know this. "Why are you and Dr. Fenris so interested in Stiles?"

"Why wouldn't we be, the boy threw me out of his head?" Valack retorted incredulously as if there were no other possible answer to give.

The werewolf waited and when nothing more was for coming he sighed, and moved away from the wall, bending to pick up his book from the floor, figuring that the conversation was over. He tried to keep his gaze partially on the other man, but it was hard to both watch and not look at him. The werewolf stiffened, book in grasp and still partially bent over when he felt a hand on his arm. Peter stared down at the book in his hand, refusing to look away, to move.

"He's a key to a puzzle, or at least that is what I think." The quasi-cyclopes whispered to him, his grip tighter than the average human before Valack roughly let go and walked over to the cot, resuming his former position on the bed and closing his eyes.

Peter restrained himself from letting out a relieved sigh, it would not do well to show weakness. But he allowed himself a brief moment to close his eyes before also moving to sit on his bed, he rested his back against the brick wall facing the other side of the room. He did not want to be caught unawares again, that had been stupid - he'd been too lax. He regulated his breathing and gather himself before reopening his mind.

 _"Yo, psycho-wolf where'd you go?"_ Was what he was greeted with.

_"I had a…  disturbance."_

_"In the force, or was it another mental one?"_ Stiles quipped back reflexively.

Peter shook his head, not saying anything and mentally letting the image of Valack leak through the connection.

 _"Yikes. This almost makes me feel sorry for you."_  Stiles paused, _"You know something, I can sense the satisfaction rolling off of you - it's disgusting."_

_"You mean intoxicating."_

_"I think you need to add a dictionary to your collection of books, your vocabulary and understanding are sorely lacking."_

The werewolf smiled, someone was in a better mood, _"What happened, have you gone into the mist yet?"_

_"No, we took a short break, kinda figured it was best after the near drowning. Now tell me what you know."_

_"So demanding."_ Peter thought with a smirk, sending the impression that he knew just what type of demanding Stiles was.

_"Ha ha - very funny. I'm currently standing next to the despaired ones lair, as my only way through to the Unseelie court and you're response is to leer at me."_

_"Why not? It's so enjoyable little red."_ Peter could feel Stiles grumbling at the nickname and his elation rose.

Peter then relented and thought about what had just happened; could he share all of it with Stiles, or would it be better to tell him bits a pieces? Either could work, but one would gain him more trust even if it was subconscious. In the end he figured that there was nothing to hide in what had happened so he let Stiles see the memory. Stiles was unnaturally silent after reliving what had just happened, though Peter could sense emotions coming off of him, mainly confusion, some anger and also concern? He was puzzled by the last one, it didn't solely seem to be related to the others, in fact, unless Peter missed his mark, Stiles was concerned about him. Why? He was mystified at this, but careful to not let Stiles see his thoughts when the man started talking to him.

 _"Did you want to try and access your memories?"_ He asked bluntly, and Peter could tell that Stiles didn't want to talk about the other things which revolved around him.

 _"I'm not sure which one of the clouds they are."_  Peter responded, he was also unsure about unlocking them in the first place, as if he - of all people - had locked them away, it must be for a good reason.

 _"Still, we need to try."_ And with that he felt some of the connection to Stiles withdraw, he seemed to be fumbling around and moving for a couple moments. But Peter couldn't tell what he was doing, or how it affected him, there was no sudden connection or memories leaking through, or even just an awareness of a new part of his mind. There was nothing, everything was still as disjointed as it was before.

 _"Huh, well that's strange."_ Stiles remarked, his confusion palpable.

 _"What is?"_ Peter felt a twinge of apprehension.

 _"Nothing I do, seems to change anything. I'm not sure what to try, it's going to take me a while to figure out… Though I think I've found the right 'cloud'."_ Stiles said borrowing Peter's term for the floating parts of his mind.

 _"That's something I suppose. How are things going over there?"_ Peter asked sensing something was up.

_"That's why I stopped, Braedon wants to get going. We've been here too long regardless."_

Peter was worried but he let the active connection drop, trusting Stiles to handle things, or contact him if he needed to.

 

~*~

* * *

~*~

 

Stiles could feel Peter refrain from saying anything, but the other man's conscious radiated worry, even in small amounts. It was strange for Stiles' to picture Peter worrying about anything, let alone him… Unless, it wasn't Stiles he was worried about but losing the deal they'd made if something happened to him. That made much more sense, he mentally nodded at this thought before refocusing on what was happening around him.

Braeden and Allison were packing up their make-shift camp, they'd moved away from the shore, to a small clearing in the forest of swaying trees wanting to be further away from the Shellycoat. The mist of the Despaired Ones extended in either direction for as far as they could see. Besides they were running out of time. Stiles checked over his backpack one last time, pulling out some rope; it was the shorter of two he'd brought with him and was a reinforced red and black mountain climbing one, he hoped it was strong enough. He hoped that they wouldn't run into anything catastrophic in the mist, but realistically he knew they would, it was just their luck. He may not be projecting and calling to all creatures around him anymore but he was still tainted and a spark which was enough lure on its own, let alone coupled with everything else he'd been through.

He felt something shift around him, his spark resonating, this realm made it more real - he felt connected to it. Something had changed in this realm, maybe not right here but he could feel it, whatever it was it was growing, expanding. His eyes darted to the trees around them, they were still flowing in clashing directions and the whispering was still there. It was something else, his eyes searched the foliage, desperately seeking whatever he knew was watching. He licked his lips and tried to focus. Stiles could almost see it, it was on the edge of his vision - Allison placed a hand on his shoulder, jolting him from his thoughts.

"Stiles we should get going." She whispered, shifting uncomfortably.

"Yeah," Stiles shouldered his backpack and started to unwrap the coil of rope he'd taken out, "We're going to use this as if we were hiking dangerous terrain, make sure to leave some slack so we're not too close together; Braedon you're taking up the rear, Allison you're in the middle and I'll be at the other end. - "

"No, I'll be at the end." Allison interrupted, "We both have weapons, we can move in a triangle formation with you in the lead, it will be easier."

Stiles frowned, he didn't want to be stuck in the middle, but her argument was way too logical, he sighed and nodded in acquiescence, before continuing, "If something happens we may need to cut the rope," He passed out the special knives that were sharp enough to cut the very sturdy mountain, hopefully the rope was strong enough to withstand the supernatural, though Stiles wasn't very confident about that. "Hopefully it won't come to that. I don't know exactly what to expect, but I doubt our sight will be very good in there."

He passed the rope to Braedon who was holding an assault gun in her hands, the strap over one of her shoulders and head. She let the gun rest against her side as she took the rope and did as he had asked. Braedon quickly picked the gun up again as soon as she'd tied off the rope, as if she too was restless. Stiles quickly looked over the campsite, making sure there were little to no trace of their being there, the girls certainly knew what they were doing; it was much better than he could have done. He then tied himself off before passing the rest of the rope to Allison. Stiles glance on last time back towards the canopy, he knew there was something out there. At first he thought it had been the thing he felt, but that didn't seem right. Perhaps he could feel whatever was watching them because of the shift he'd sensed. It was possible, he supposed, but at the same time he didn't know enough about himself or sparks in general. He could ask Peter but he didn't want to reveal that much about himself.

 _"Peter. We're going in."_ Stiles sent, just in case something happened, he didn't know if the mist would affect him in a certain way. He definitely did not trust anything in the Fae Realm.

He turned away from the small clearing they'd camped in, trusting the girls to have his back. Stiles received no response from the insane werewolf and straightening his shoulders he determinedly stepped into the dark curling mist in front of him. At first nothing happened, there was silence apart from the sound of his breathing; he couldn't even hear the girls stepping behind him, in fact if not for the faint red of the rope and tension in them, he wouldn't have known he wasn't alone in the mist. He bit his bottom lip, the only option was to move, he stepped further in. His footsteps made no sound, it was complete silence, unlike he'd ever heard before. His thoughts started to wonder, he'd herd of anechoic chambers in science, apparently being one for extended periods of time could cause madness, he wondered if the mists were like that. No, he needed to stop, to focus on something else. How was he to lead them through this, he couldn't even see his feet in the mist… He could hear his breathing getting faster and faster and he couldn't stop it.

 _"Stiles, you need to slow your breathing_." Peter's voice flashed into his mind, a welcome solace of sound.

_"Talk to me about something, anything."_

_"I don't hate my nephew. I mean, he is an idiot. But I forget how young he was when everything happened. At first I did hate him, but he was a kid… It's Kate who I hate. Sometimes I wish I could kill her again. If I could have changed things I would have, I did not choose to go moon mad."_

_"Moon mad_ ," Stiles gasped in response, he could still feel the panic inside of him _, "Remind me to show you what 'moon moon' is if we make it back."_

_"When you get back, you need to fulfil our deal."_

Stiles latched onto the conversation, letting it bolster him and stopping the creeping madness. He had relaxed incrementally when he felt one of the ropes pull taught. He shook; his barely won control bucking, as he forced his hand to the taught rope and pulled, nothing happened. He tugged twice on the other rope, and he felt it get slacker as she moved closer to him. He saw a dark silhouette and he raised his hand, trying to stop them from talking; he couldn't tell who it was in the mist. He grabbed their jacket, it was leather, which did not help him as both Allison and Braedon were wearing that. Regardless he pulled them along, towards the third member of their group. The once taught rope slowly got slacker as they moved. At first Stiles was confused when the rope started to slope downwards, but as he moved closer he saw the outline of a person curled up on the ground, he was sure if they could be, they would be whimpering. His foot caught the edge of something, he reached down and grasped it, it was hard a corner of something and string? A bow. Allison was on the ground in front of him, he mouth grew dry and his mind went blank.

_"Focus Stiles!"_

Spurred on by the sound, he picked up the bow and slung it over his torso, resting it on top of his rucksack. He reached out an touched the figure in front of him, she was ice cold. It felt familiar. It felt like something he knew - the nogitsune. Dread curled in his stomach and he quickly looked up, the figure of Braedon was standing guard, he could just catch a gleam of metal from the gun. He turned his attention from the huntress back to his friend.

 _"Peter what do I do?"_ He asked, a slight note of desperation in his voice, he was so desperate he let Peter see that he had no knowledge of his spark, it was a foolhardy risk but he was not letting something happen to Allison.

 _"So it's true, you know nothing of being a spark?"_ Peter asked rhetorically _, "Place your hand on her head and centre your thoughts, you should be able to sense her mind."_

 Stiles did as Peter instructed and for a long moment all he could hear and feel was the sound of his own ragged breathing, but then he noticed something at the tips of his fingers, it was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Acting on instinct he followed it to its source, another mind; Allison's. It was in much better shape than either his or Peter's, it was warm and welcoming for the most part, but there were a couple of dark storm clouds over certain areas, and in the middle, shining like a beacon was a smaller version of the maw that had been in Stiles' mind. He felt so stupid, he should have thought about the darkness on her soul too. Should have done something - anything - about it. He drifted over to it in his incorporeal form, and as he drew closer he felt something else was also here, whatever it was; it had latched onto Allison and it seemed - hungry. It was feeding on her. Stiles redoubled his attention and he could feel the storm clouds brewing, they weren't whatever was feeding on her, they were a part of her; the self-doubt and negative emotions that this creature was fuelling. And Stiles got angry, he was so done with everything that had happened, he just acted.

 _"GET AWAY FROM HER!"_ Stiles felt the something shudder and shuffle.

 _"Why should I? Such a nice feast… And there's more for me to have after_." The voice cracked and hissed like it was made of broken glass.

_"She is not yours to have. None of us are. Move away or I will make you."_

_"Ohhh, you wouldn't. You don't want to chance harming her."_

_"I'd take the chance of damaging her slightly and fixing it later, over letting you consume her_!" Stiles shoved with all the malice and power he'd put into the attack on Peter. He buffeted the creature with fire and heat, it reeled back slightly and shoved against him. Stiles felt something break inside of him.

 _"The spark!"_ The creature sounded delighted, it discarded Allison's mind like an old chew toy and rounded on Stiles.

Stiles felt the attack hit him full on, mentally knocking him out of his friends mind and physically knocking him backward, the jarring smack of the ground knocked his concentration for a moment and it was all the creature needed to get past his defences. The pain built and built and… Stiles screamed.

And then something stopped it. Peter stopped it. Stiles fumbled in his mind, trying to find them. His thoughts slow and sluggish, he caught the edges of their fight… Flashes of light and sound, he needed to focus, slowly he pushed the pain back, not allowing it to cloud his judgement further, he felt someone's hand on his shoulder, his neck, they were feeling for a pulse… Reaching out instinctively he pushed a message through the skin contact.

 _"I'm alive, it's attacking me now. Guard her_." And before Braedon could respond Stiles withdrew the contact, but he felt much better, the small respite from the pain that the contact provided had cleared his head, though the pain still threatened to consume him. Resolutely he dove back down into his mind, back to where the werewolf and creature were. Peter was losing; Stiles watched as the creature slammed down against the wolf form Peter had taken. The sickening crunch revolted Stiles. But he pushed on, he crashed into the creature which was a writhing mass of being, it had no actual form.

 _"What are you?"_ Stiles demanded.

 _"Your cousin."_ It responded _, "And I will dine on you!"_

_"No, you will die here."_

_"Fool. You cannot kill me."_

_"Yeah, well, we've done it before."_

Stiles tore into the creature, hacking and slashing at the incorporeal form, slowly dissipating it. It seeped into him and Stiles felt the pain that wracked his body intensify. Before it suddenly withdrew. Stiles looked around searching and scouring. He couldn't feel it anywhere, but he was no fool it wasn't gone, merely toying with him. He slowly backed up towards Peter, who'd collapsed on the outskirts of Stiles' mind.

 _"Are you okay?"_ Stiles asked, concerned.

 _"I'll be fine."_ The werewolf coughed _, "That took more out of me than I thought it would…"_

_"Why did you help me?"_

_"I said I would."_

_"No, you said you would give me information, you said nothing about coming to my defence."_

_"Maybe I need you for my own plans, besides we have a deal,"_ Peter paused _, "I have to go, I can hear Valack getting inquisitive… Good luck Stiles_." And he vanished from Stiles' mind leaving only the faint communication trace.

Stiles took a moment to check his defences, his body was still wracked with pain and he could feel it shuddering, his mental defences had some holes in them but he slowly patched them up. All while focusing and scanning the void around him.

 _"I can feel that you're out there!"_ Stiles yelled out into the mental abyss, the only response he got was the sound of crashing glass; the creature was laughing.

Stiles was tiring, he couldn't keep this up for much longer, he had three choices: wait for the creature to attack him and hope he had enough strength to either hold it off or kill it; try to pre-emptively find the creature and waste power and energy in the process; or he could force the creature away, at least for the time being, the only problems were that it would attract more attention to them and he wasn't sure how much energy it would take. Stiles' weighed his options and not liking the first two, he reached for the power inside of him that he'd only recently been made aware off, unsure of what he was doing, he pictured it expanding out from him in a bubble, like a shield, pushing darkness away, pushing - it - away. Slowly his spark did as he asked and he felt the darkness recede, his pain melted away leaving a dull ache behind. Eventually he stopped when the shield reached a couple of feet around him and his companions, hopefully that would be enough to stop the creature for now. He focused on holding the shield, he still had over half his energy left but the shield was consuming it quicker than he'd like, but he didn't want to make it smaller just yet. For once thankful about his ADHD, Stiles let part of his mind focus on maintaining the shield.

He let the rest of himself wake up, he blinked his eyes - he could see! He sat bolt upright, his body protesting, the shield he created wasn't just a mental one, it was surrounding him and the others. It was a small dome that gave off a faint white light, Stiles could see the dark mist curling around the outside and over the top of the small dome. But he could see, he could hear breathing. He looked over at the others, Braedon was holding her gun tightly and she had an incredulous look on her face. Allison was still unconscious. Stiles scrambled over to her from where he'd fallen and he tentatively reached out and placed a hand on her head, sending his conscious into her mind, she was still alive, just unconscious. Using the smallest bit of spark he reached out and coaxed her to wake up. He felt her stir underneath him.

"Stiles?" Her voice croaked.

He opened his eyes, "It worked! Also I totally just Vulcan mind melded you. I am awesome!"

"Stiles, what on Earth is going on?" Braedon demanded.

"We're not on Earth." Stiles retorted, unable to help himself, "Allison was attacked by a creature like the nogitsune, it was attracted to the dark mark on her soul. I interrupted it and fought it, I managed to push it away with the shield but I didn't intend to make a physical one. I didn't even know I could make one…" He visibly stopped himself from continuing to ramble.

"Stiles, your nose is bleeding." Allison whispered and he quickly wiped it.

"I'm not surprised, I think I pushed myself a bit too far then. Here, let's get you sitting up." Stiles said helping her and she smiled in thanks. "You can lower your gun." He called out to Braedon, "Nothing evil should be able to get through that, at least, not on the first try."

Braedon slowly lowered her gun, letting it rest on her side, but she kept one hand on it; ready to shoot if needed. "How did you do that?"

"I'm a spark, though no one has told me what that means. Back in our realm, I could sense things, and sometimes change things. Once I managed to levitate a pencil, but aside from that nothing else. Here it seems easier to access, like before when I did the sensing thing? I could do that on Earth too, but it was nowhere near as powerful or clear."

"Why are you suddenly so talkative?"

"I'm not sure, part of it is that this is the safest we've been since we set foot in here. Also, I felt bad, keeping this from you. You deserved to know, particularly if I need you to do something." He shrugged, "Besides, you're my friends, even if you don’t feel the same way about me; I need to try and trust you more. Though I'm unsure about announcing it to everyone just yet."

The experienced huntress looked at him warily, "Stiles, I trust you, I wouldn't be here otherwise. You confuse me, I've never met anyone who has been touched by this much supernatural and darkness, treat things the way you do. Also I've been told some things that I'm starting to wonder if they are true." Braedon frowned and looked at the dome, she seemed to be considering what she said next, "You didn't even hesitate to help her. I was here guarding and then you collapsed and started screaming." She shuddered, "I've never heard sounds like that; they carried through the mist. The first sound I heard other than my own breathing since we entered it. It drew things towards us. Like that." She pointed over Stiles' shoulder there was a small humanoid carcass on the ground, shrivelled and misshapen, it had a large gouge for a mouth.

Behind it Stiles could almost make out the shambling forms of others out there on the edge of the dome, waiting to get in. He swore. "The host's victims, sinners who were damned to wander the field of torments and feast upon lost souls. We need to get out of here, before they call their masters."

"Why do I get the feeling we won't like meeting them?" Allison drolly quipped, "Help me up?" She held out a hand to Stiles and he took it, standing himself and then pulling her up. He reached out to steady her when she rocked but she pushed his hands away. She tested her balance for a moment and then nodded to herself. Allison then held out a hand to Stiles and he looked at her puzzled for a moment before realising, he removed the bow and handed it to her.

"Shall we?" Stiles asked stepping into formation. He focused for a moment, using his spark to sense where darkness was brewing. He then focused on the shield drawing it in slightly so he didn't expend too much energy. Stiles started walking, making the shield move with him, it was harder than just holding the shield, but he did it.

For a while nothing happened, and they walked in companionable silence, distrustful of making more sound. The two huntresses where scanning their surroundings, Stiles was too focused on maintaining the shield and moving in the right direction. The scenery didn't change but they got more glimpses of shambling figures in the darkness, a couple of times they thought one had broken through, only for it to be a rock or tree, or already dead.

 _"How are you doing?"_ Stiles asked Peter.

 _"Not well, that thing battered me and I can't heal properly with the drugs they're pumping me with."_ Peter grumbled, _"It will take me twice as long."_

_"Cry-baby."_

_"Hush, boy who cried wolf."_

Stiles waited a moment, _"Thank you for helping me. I know you didn't do it for me and definitely not for Allison, but all the same, I need to say it."_ He tried to not let his embarrassment show.

Stiles could feel the shock emanating from the werewolf, _"You're welcome, and Stiles, I didn't do it just for our deal."_

_"I know."_

_"Good. Now why don't you tell me what happened? I'm a bit surprised to hear from you, I'll be honest."_

Stiles showed him the memory of what happened after the wolf left, though he skimmed over the details of Allison's mind and their conversation after he woke up.

 _"You know, you are rather terrifying for a spark with no training."_ Peter finally commented.

_"What happened to you?"_

_"Ah, my awakening was much more unfortunate, my cellmate was standing over me."_

_"What did he see?"_ Stiles immediately asked, he was greeted with silence. _"Peter. Answer me."_

_"Everything… I was too weak to keep him out."_

Stiles pulled away from the connection, just when he was starting to trust Peter - no, it wasn't the werewolf's fault, Valack had stolen the memories when the man was weak, he probably could have stolen them even when Peter was stronger. Wait, since when had he been starting to trust psycho-wolf? Stiles stumbled, he could feel the sharp look the other gave him.

"I'm fine." He said waving their concern away, "We don't have the luxury of rest right now anyways." He carried on walking, making sure they followed after him.

 _"Are you okay?"_ He eventually asked the werewolf.

_"Why, what's this? Concern for my wellbeing? Stiles I'm touched,"_

_"Yeah, in the head, psycho-wolf."_

_"I've been better and I've been worse. Thank you for asking."_ Stiles could feel gratefulness pour through their mind bond _, "One small upside is that I got a better idea of how his sight works. He can't see everything, only surface thoughts and really strong memories, he has to 'dig' for the rest. Also he definitely couldn't access the mind clouds even when actively knowing about them. Though how this helps us I am unsure."_

 _"That's good to know I guess."_ Stiles toyed with something before changing the topic _, "Why did you do what you did to Lydia?"_

 _"She's a banshee_." Peter stated.

_"Yes, but how did you know and why did you do it?"_

_"I'd dealt with her grandmother before, she was very powerful. As for why, I wasn't thinking clearly-."_

_"Well if that all it was then."_   Stiles responded abruptly.

 _"Wait!"_ Peter called out _, "That is not everything_ ," Stiles could have sworn he felt the werewolf sigh through the bond, but then he continued _, "I knew Loraine, she was powerful, so powerful that she knew when she was going to die. Do you know how rare it is for a banshee to know her own death? She knew she would never get the chance to unlock Lydia's powers or to train her. I owed her a favour which I repaid when I woke Lydia's banshee side. If it helped me in return then that's my business."_

_"No it isn't, technically you still owe Loraine, she wouldn't have bargained with you without making sure that you would wake Lydia's banshee and train her."_

_"I offered, she refused."_

_"Of course she did! You haunted her mind, she went wondering around the forest naked for days. What did you think she'd do?"_ Peter was silent _. "How are banshee's usually wakened then?"_

_"In unkinder ways that what I did."_

_"Does she know that?"_

_"No, I don't suppose she does_." This time Peter withdrew and Stiles let him do so. He wouldn't pressure him about Kate and his family, too many others did that, besides it wasn't his place. Lydia though, he doubted many had pushed him on that issue, aside from Lydia and Allison and that obviously hadn’t worked.

Stiles continued walking, he was tired, his spark was waning, but they were getting closer, less than an hour away from the edge of the mist and the hunts territory, they could make it. The would make it. And then the screaming started. Stiles stopped dead in his tracks, Allison and Braedon stopping next to him.

"What is that?" Allison asked softly.

"The hordes alarm cry. They've alerted their masters."

"Damn." Braedon cursed, what do we do?"

"We can't outrun them, once they've got our scent they won't stop until they find something more tempting." Stiles looked around, there had to be something that they could do. But this place was just as empty as everywhere they'd walked in the last couple of hours.

"Well, what do we do then?"

"We fight." Allison said readying herself.

"That's insanity." He stated.

"And suicide all rolled up into one. I know, but do we have any other options?" She retorted.

Stiles smiled, "Sounds like a plan then."

They formed up with their backs to one another as the screaming intensified, for a couple of long minutes nothing happened and then the screaming stopped, Stiles could feel the huntresses fidgeting next to him. And then they heard it. The taught sound of flapping wings as something passed overhead. It circled round, they could hear it, but not see it and then the flapping faded.

"What that it?" Braedon whispered.

Stiles shook his head as a high pitched whistling started, "GET DOWN!" He roared, and pushed against both huntresses as the flying creature crashed down through the shield - shattering it. The shield mostly dissipated, but some shards of the dome embedded themselves in the ground and in the creature. It shrieked and flapped it wings, batting the mist away. Stiles could see the shambling victims on the edge of the mist, thankfully they couldn't survive outside of it. They were surrounded, completely unprotected and he looked up, they had a night-hag to contend with. Stiles got to his feet slowly, he could feel the other two moving as well. They were probably doomed. The night-hag was a good 12 feet tall, with bat-like wings that could have blotted out the sun if there was one. She had dark grey skin and was a skeletal humanoid in form, though bits of skin sagged off of its frame. The hag had a pronounce jaw and long sharp claws for hands and feet. She had teeth hanging from cords around its neck and arms, she was wearing a parody of a dress that was ripped in places and hung strangely off of her body. Her long dark mane had larger bones weaved into it.

"Why are you here?" A strangely childlike voice emanated from the hag, "How do three humans make it this far through the mist?"

Stiles held up a hand stopping the huntresses from firing, "We seek the Unseelie court, I have a message from the Seelie Queen."

"Lies!" The childlike voice hissed, "Would-be murders who have no right in any realm. I will feast on you and you will become mine!"

"It was worth a shot." Stiles muttered to himself, though even he rolled his eyes at the comment.

_"Stiles! Are you oka- ... No, you're definitely not."_

_"Suggestions would be pretty helpful right now."_

_"Distract it and I'll try to come up with something."_

"Split up!" Stiles said sawing at one of the ropes, joining the trio. Braedon fired her gun at the creature, the small bits of metal pelting it and raising up puffs of blood. Allison cut through the other rope and then they were free, both running in different directions, Stiles really wished he had something other than his baseball bat right now, that he drew from a side pocket on his backpack.

The creature shrieked and buffeted them with is wings, knocking them back and even sending bullets and arrows flying backwards, the huntresses barely dodged out of the way. The hag then leaped towards Stiles and swiped at him with a claw, he couldn't doge in time and she sliced him down the side. Stiles reflexively hit her over the head with his reinforced iron and mistletoe bat. The monster hissed and reared backwards from him, flaring its wings in reflex. Braedon seemed to have the same idea Stiles had, as before he could say anything, she shot the wings. Unlike the little effect the gun had on the hag itself; they shredded the wings, black ichor flowed and dripped to the ground where it hissed and bubbled.

"Don’t touch the blood!" Allison called out, "Stiles get out of there!"

He scrambled back holding onto his injured side, it was burning and it felt like the wound was crawling. He shuddered and held his arm against the side trying to stop the blood, he stumbled over to Braedon, using the bat to support himself and crouched slightly to the side of her. The hag tried buffeting them again but it howled in pain, its wings in tatters.

"YOU WILL PAY!" It launched itself across the open field at Braedon and Stiles, who fell backwards. Braedon continued to fire at the creature as it loped towards her, and then she ran out of bullets. With the cool of a practise professional Braedon re-loaded the gun, from a magazine strapped to the side of her thigh, she started shooting but was too late. The hag was right in front of her. It slammed into her and knocked the huntress backwards; she rag-dolled through the air and landed in a heap just out of arms reach of the night-hags minions.

Stiles stared woozily up at the creature roaring over him, her arm raised to swipe down at him. He'd used up most of his power when shielding them. He started trying to focus, to do something with his spark when he saw something moving. Allison was running towards the creature. Stiles wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it, but all he could do was watch as she attacked up the creature. Knife in hand, Allison slashed at the creature, ducking as the hag tried to swipe her. She jumped onto the hag, winding her way up the creature as it tried to shake and claw her off. Allison climbed up to the top of hag's back, moving under claws that only just barely couldn't reach her and plunged her knife into the back of the hag's neck. The hag started to roar and coughed, ichor traveling down its throat as the knife stopped it from speaking. The night-hag did the only thing it could do, it heaved itself backwards, intent on crushing the huntress under its weight, Allison tried jumping away but didn't quite make it, the creature half crushed her. And for a moment there was silence. Stiles dropped his bat.

Relief flooded through him and turned sour as Stiles heard a creaking noise. He stared dumbfounded from the ground, as the night-hag slowly got to her feet, her eyes were a furious red, she was covered in dark ichor, her wings in tatters. She stared down at Stiles; her breathing laboured and the creature flexed her claws moving slowly towards him, a demented smile on the hags lips even with all the creature had suffered.

_"I'm sorry Stiles, I don't know what to do…"_

Stiles ignored Peter, he would not let this end this way. Collecting his thoughts he delved into himself and drew on his power, preparing to launch all of it at the monster in front of him. He barely registered what was around him, but a compulsion made him look closer and he felt something on the edge of his conscious; the creature from earlier, it must have followed them. Stiles' mouth curved into a feral smile and he reached out and grabbed the creature with his spark, throwing it at the night-hag and creating a small boundary that forced them to fight each other. At first they violently resisted, Stiles had to grit his teeth and push with all his waning strength to hold them, but it was just enough. They started to tear into each other. He flinched away at the sensations assaulting him through his spark, the poorly constructed boundary informing him of everything that happened inside, all of the pain, anger and anguish. Sounds, sights, smells and sensations that battered him, like a fly caught in a gale, but he couldn't shut his senses down, to do so would destroy the boundary and they would attack him and his friends. Every time his concentration wavered or he felt himself grow tired, they redoubled their attention on his boundary; he had to keep fuelling it with his spark. So he felt it, both mentally and physically as the two creatures devoured each other. Stiles watched, forcing them to fight as they ripped and tore with fervour. The night-hag obviously would have been the more powerful of the two; but was more badly damaged. Stiles saw things that would haunt the hardest of souls and he was the one causing it. As they gorged themselves on each other he could feel himself fading, but he hung on until there was a dull thud and the blacken skull of the night-hag thumped into the earth, the only remains left of the fight. Stiles turned to the side and dry heaved. His vision blurred and dull, even in the clearing the grey miasma that surrounded them was still present; no light filtered through the mist.

He froze in abject terror at the sound of wings, there couldn't be another night-hag; they were very territorial, besides how could they know that one of them was dead so quickly. Stiles looked up, a raven was flying around the clearing buffeted by the dark mist. It must have been the watcher in the trees. Stiles stared up at it, waiting. It circled, once, twice and then it flew off in the direction of the Unseelie court. There was nothing he could do about it for the time being. Stiles looked down at the wound in his side, it was a long three gashes that had black ichor dripping from them. The gashes seemed to waver in his vision and the veins that were leaving the cuts were inflamed and dark from the venom.

_"Peter, how does one heal from a night-hags cut?"_

_"No one knows, no one has survived an encounter with them."_

_"Brilliant, what would you recommend?"_

_"Is there anything left of the hag? You can use it to anchor yourself and possibly purge the venom from you, though I warn you it is very dangerous."_

_"Isn't everything_?" Stiles sighed and crawled over o the blackened skull, listening to what Peter was telling him to do.

Grimacing Stiles put his hand on top of the skull and cleared his mind, delving down and reaching our into the remnant of the hags being; given enough time night-hags could usually regenerate. But doing this would hardly change the night-hags hate for him. They were marked for death regardless of what happened. Stiles pushed through darkness and decay and focused on the mingled power of the night-hag and the nogitsune-like creature. He focused on the remnants of their power and used it to find the damage in him, purging the venom from himself and attempting to heal. He did not know how long he lay like that with his hand on the darkened skull but cautiously he opened his eyes: the skull was gone. He looked down at where the three cuts had been, all that remained were three long scars. Dread filled him, what also appeared to be a tattoo or imprint of the night-hag's and nogitsune cousin's burnished skull and wings. He froze staring down at it, wondering what on earth it meant. He started to move to investigate it when Braedon groaned.

Stiles moved slowly and stood up, his side was still painful but it was bearable, he limped over to the huntress and placed a hand on her head; the hags poison was burning through her too, he slowly purged it out healing Braedon as he had himself. He felt something pass through him and opened his eyes to look down. One of the wings had moved from him and onto Braedon, it floated down her skin and moved to her left shoulder. But her eyes fluttered and she started to wake up. Stiles smiled and then limped over to Allison, repeating the process, only this time the wing settled on her right side. He managed to stay awake long enough to see her starting to wake up and then darkness took him.

When Stiles woke up he was lying half propped up next to a tree. He blearily looked around, the mist that had haunted them for the last couple of hours was a good number of yards away from them. He glanced around taking in his bearings; Allison and Braedon were sitting a bit further away from him, they'd made food and his stomach rumbled, he didn't know how long it had been since he'd properly eaten. "What happened?" He groaned, pushing himself up.

"You tell us. We woke up to an empty clearing, random marks on us and you unconscious. Allison told me what happened to her." Braedon retorted.

Stiles closed his eyes for a moment, letting his thoughts catch up with him, he didn't want to reveal everything. "After the creature keeled over, I thought we might have actually defeated it - but it wasn't enough. She got back up and started coming for me. I had no idea what to do so I started to shove my spark at her." Stiles paused, wondering at the phrasing, "But I noticed the creature from earlier; it had obviously been following us. I managed to get them to fight one another…" He trailed off, the images of what had happened stabbing his mind, "They destroyed each other." He carefully didn’t look at the huntresses, "I was spent, I had no idea how to heal us from the venom." He didn't mention the skull or Peter, "I wasn't thinking clearly, but you know that most antidotes are made from the venom itself right? I - um… I used the remnants of the hags energy to purge the venom from us." He looked down at the floating skull on his skin, "I think these marks are the venom coalescing; I know they're keeping us alive but I don't know what other properties they have…" He stopped talking, he couldn't go on. He refused to look at them. He could hear them both shifting.

"Hey." Braedon said slightly softer, having been prompted by Allison, moving close to him, "You did what you had to, thank you for saving us." Stiles finally looked up to see her smile at him, it was a bit forced but the smile was there. He returned the smile and asked what happened after he'd collapsed. "We had no clue what had happened, all we knew was that you were on the ground unconscious, the hag was nowhere to be seen, and somehow we were miraculously healed. At first we were terrified that it was coming back."

"We gathered our things and started to prepare ourselves. But nothing happened, until the mist started to slowly seep back into the clearing, whatever was holding it back had started to crumble away. We stood guard and raised our weapons but the shambling minions didn't come after us, in fact they started to run away." Allison continued, "We had no clue what to make of it, we used the time the mist took to reach us to get you up: we had to hold you between us."

"We needed to get out, but we weren't sure where to go, but something - the marks, not that we knew it then - made us choose this way. We just kept walking, supporting you but nothing disturbed us for the rest of the journey. We didn't know what to make of it, but I guess that the creatures were scared."

"I left when we reached the edge of the field and found this little nook of trees for us to shelter in. Braedon set you down and we made food." Allison said handing him the plate with pre-cooked food, "We considered actually cooking but didn't want to make a fire."

"Thanks." Stiles said and quickly scarfed down the food she'd given him. "Have both of you rested?"

"We took turns whilst you were unconscious." Allison informed him.

"We could do with more though."

"I'm not surprised, I was hoping you wouldn't mind if we stayed a bit longer." Stiles paused eating when the two girls looked at him, "I realised something back when the creature attacked Allison; the darkness on your soul is still there. It's what drew that wraith creature towards us, I could not and would not ask you to go into the Seelie court, let alone the Unseelie court without protection. I was hoping to use the time to help fix it."

Allison had flinched away from him at the mention of the wraith and the darkness in her. "What do you need to do?" She asked in a small voice, so unlike her usual self.

"I'll need to mind link with you again and see if there's a way to fill it, like there was mine. I won't lie to you, it'll be dangerous and I'm not a hundred percent sure of what I'm doing but it's our best chance and you can stop me at any point." As long as it won't cause you further damaged, Stiles thought to himself.

_"Stiles prolong connection to her right now may not be a good idea, she could find out about this."_

_"It's a risk I'm willing to take. Besides she's not likely to find out if you aren't active."_

"I'll do it." She said interrupting Stiles' mental conversation.

"That’s good, we'll start as soon as I finish eating, Braedon do you mind keeping watch?"

The huntress shook her head in response and set about caring for her weapons. Stiles turned back to his meal, wanting to give Allison some semblance of privacy. He took his time eating, savouring the food, even if it wasn't the best in the world. Though considering that they were in the Fae Realm it kinda was. He chuckled to himself at the thought. All to soon he'd finished his food, he wiped down the plate as best he could and packed it and everything else away: it wouldn't do to be caught unprepared. He then sat crossed legged and breathed, centring himself and his power, it was nowhere near half way, let alone full, what with only the short rest and the limited food. But at he focussed on it more he realised it was different. He wanted to investigate it right away but now wasn't the right time. He needed to do so later, preferably before they entered the court. After he helped Allison then, assuming nothing untoward happened.

Stiles opened his eyes and nodded to Allison, it was time. She moved over to him and sat crossed legged in front of him, he reached up with both hands and cupped her face and head. Stiles sent his conscious down and out through the contact into her mind. It was just as bright and welcoming as before. The storms were still there but they were calmer, for the most part. The maw in her mind was front and centre and it looked inflamed.

 _"Allison."_ Stiles whispered.

_"Stiles? What is this I can heard you in my head!"_

_"It's one of my many gifts seemingly, did you want to see what your mind looks like?"_ Before he even finished sending the thought he could feel the curiosity emanating from her, so he sent her the image of her mind as he saw it. He did not expect the jolt he got from her in response.

_"That is one of the strangest things I've ever seen… I want to try something, tell me if anything changes."_

Stiles waited, watching, he could feel her moving around and her emotions, but he could also tell that she couldn't see or feel what he could. Slowly her mind shifted and moved, swirling, he sent her the image.

_"Interesting, I tried closing the maw but I can't seem to connect to it. Did you want to try?"_

Stiles froze for a moment that was a lot of trust to put in him. But before he could say to try something else, Allison sent a wave of emotions towards him, trust and loyalty. He stared in wonder at the sensations around him, and his mind he felt some of his own doubt dissipate _. "I'll try."_ He whispered to her.

Stiles moved further into her mind and approached the gaping hole. He flitted around it trying to find a way to close it. He pushed good emotions that way but it just swallowed them. He then tried forcing it closed like he had his own but it pushed back at him and nearly knocked him out of Allison's mind. He observed the maw for a long while, thinking. The wraith creature and the nogitsune both fed on darkness, what if he fed on the maw? Tentatively he reached out and tried to syphon the darkness away. It was working! Then he felt Allison's mind convulse, something was wrong. He stopped syphoning, that was working but he was missing something. Those creatures fed and devoured, leaving nothing behind, of course! He needed to send purer energy into her mind. Could he send his own? Something about that made him shiver, that wasn't something he'd do lightly. He turned his attention to the energy he'd taken, would it be possible to purify it? As if in answer to his thoughts Stiles felt his spark shift and resonate and the darkness he held changed, it wasn't good or perfectly pure, more of a neutral grey-silver. He had to hope it would be enough, he started to syphon more away, making sure to send an equal amount of the changed energy back to her. Whatever he'd done, it had worked, her mind no longer convulsed when he took the energy from her. The silver he sent back didn't form into another maw instead it inserted itself into her mind, mingling with both the good and the bad. Eventually there was nothing left for him to do.

He drew back to himself, becoming aware of the tears on his cheeks, he could feel the water running down Allison's face. Slowly he withdrew his hands and opened his eyes. Allison was crying, but she was smiling at the same time, she seemed different - lighter - she held herself higher and the dark bags under her eyes had faded.

"Thank you." She whispered.

Stiles nodded in response, to drained to do anything else, instead he slowly moved away from her, settling back into a hollow in the roots of one of the trees. Silence settled on the camp as they rested for a while. 


	4. The Unseelie Court

Stiles needed to find out what was going on. For what felt like the millionth time he dived back down through the now familiar route to the source of his power, his spark. It was pulsating quietly and it was breath-taking, he could see it hanging like a star in the cosmos. He shook himself, trying to stop himself from getting distracted, _"What are you? What is going on? How can I do these things?"_ He found himself demanding of the spark inside of him. He didn't expect a response, but flashes of memories came to him. Him as a young boy with his mother, the nematon, meeting Scott, Lydia and everyone else, the nematon, the Hale fire, his mother's death, the nematon, Scott being bitten, Erica, Boyd, Kate, Gerard, Jackson, the oni, the nogitsune, the fae, the nematon. _"I don't understand…"_

Something shoved against him and then he was inside the spark, not just visualising it. Stiles could feel his power, it wasn't just a core inside of him, it flowed through him. For the first time in his life he knew he wasn't helpless, he could do whatever he wanted he could change the world, he would - no. That was not his purpose, not yet anyway.

**_"You pass_**." A voice seem to whisper to him.

_"What are you?"_ Another image of the nematon greeted him. _"The nematon, but you're a tree?"_

**_"Is that really what you think?"_ **

_"Well no. What are you then?"_

**_"I am a link between worlds and people. I am older than your realm and this realm, and I shall exist in some form or another long after both of these realms perish."_ **

_"But what are you; a metaphysical concept - like death?"_

**_"I am death to some. I am life to others. I am nothing to most. I simply exist."_ **

Stiles shuddered at what was happening, the nematon was talking. A cryptic - talking - nematon, _"Why are you talking to me?"_

**_"I can stop if you wish?"_** Stiles felt the presence start to recede.

_"No! I have too many questions,"_ The presence halted as if waiting, _"Why me? Why did all of this happen?"_

**_"It has been so long since a spark grew to maturity that most people have forgotten of them and their duties. I was once revered by those who saw more than most, we cultivated the world and things were harmonious. The currents were strong and we could travel freely among them. But eventually their time came to an end and the realms fractured and divided. You know of who I speak, I can see it in your mind. Many others have tried to become what they were, none have succeeded, you might."_** Stiles shivered in response, he didn't want to become one of them, the nematon seemed to laugh at this.

**_"What you want is inconsequential. I have chosen you. A boy spark who played in the preserve as a child, you stumbled across me then, do you not remember?"_** The image of soaring branches and a towering tree floated through his mind and the laughter of a child ** _, "From the moment you first touched me, I chose you. Why do you think Deaton is so cryptic, he does not trust the nematon, not one that would choose a spark over a druid."_**

_"There are more of you!" It was almost an accusation._

**_"Many. I was one of the oldest, the strongest, and then the unthinkable happened, the Hale fire, the dark druid… No one tended me or the preserved for too long."_ **

_"Why did you choose me then?"_

**_"You were there and you were unclaimed."_ **

_"That's not really an answer."_ The nematon was silent _, "Can you explain to me why you did those things, the darach, the nogitsune?"_

**_"I did not do those things, they happened, they warped my power, no one else had tended me."_** Stiles got the great sense of large limbs shifting and settling, before the sentience continued ** _, "I did not want them to happen, but I suppose they needed to. The darach tricked me, I thought there was finally a druid who cared enough to tend for me again, I was mistaken. The nogitsune escaped because of that, I was too weak to stop it and it knew my claim on you. It delighted in tormenting the both of us. I tried calling you too me, but I could not get through."_**

_"You mean the visions of the nematon weren't the foxes creation?"_

**_"No. But alas, it did not work and the fox nearly consumed you. I see you have consumed it instead."_ **

Stiles shuddered and then started in shock _, "What do you mean?"_

**_"You do not honestly believe the creature was destroyed or stopped by what happened do you? You weakened it, but it was still alive, just incorporeal, for the most part. Some of it was still attached to you by the darkness in your mind. Why do you think you could just push it out? It joined with the rest and followed you here. You consumed it, it and … a night-hag. I have chosen well."_ **

Stiles was revolted but he didn't know how to respond, eventually his thoughts settled enough to ask _, "What does my consuming them mean? I have no idea what I'm doing."_

**_"There is very little I could teach you, sparks have to learn their capabilities on their own, they are powerful but few, and they rarely live near to one another in time or location."_** The great nexus of a tree relented after a moment, ** _"Sparks have the ability to absorb power. Unlike druids they cannot tap directly into the earth, they need a bond with a nexus, such as myself to do that. Instead they have their own power reserves which they can add to by taking powers from others. It's why druids are afraid of you and another reason the nogitsune chose you_**."

Stiles felt something calling him away and sensing it as well the nematon withdrew, leaving Stiles sitting in his own mind, alone. Well, aside from Peter yelling at him outside.

_"Stiles! What they hell have you done to yourself now?"_ Even though the tone was gruff, Stiles could hear the concern travelling from the other man.

_"Nothing, I'm fine. Just sorting some things out."_

_"Really, because your mind started to shake as if an earthquake had hit it and things started to move."_ The werewolf sent and image of Stiles' mind. Whereas before it was dark with thorns both inside and outside it, now the thorns were all pointed outwards and surrounded his mind. His mind was still swirl of dark but it was now counterbalanced with lighter aspects. It almost reminded Stiles of the mist, he shuddered at the thought.

_"That looks healthier, at least. Did you want me to try and reattach your mind?"_

_"No."_ Peter didn't seem to know how to respond _, "I think you've pushed yourself enough for the last while… I saw what happened."_

Stiles cringed backwards, he didn't want anyone else knowing what he'd done to save them. He's destroyed.

_"Destruction is a part of creation."_

_"You sound like an anarchist."_

_"How do you know I'm not one?"_

_"Please, you love designer clothes and with your smarminess I'd be surprised if you weren't a lawyer or something."_ Stiles quipped, trying to change the conversation, when he got the feeling of affront from the werewolf _, "You were, weren't you!"_

_"A lawyer, yes. I also moonlighted as a lecturer of both law and history."_

_"Couldn't just choose one?"_

Peter sniffed, _"I did a joint degree in history and law. It's not my fault that others can't do both."_

For a moment Stiles thought about how crazy smart and dedicated you'd have to be to do that and then he shook his head, you'd have to be either Peter or Lydia levels of crazy and smart to pull that off.

_"Stiles, you are smart enough to do so, if you applied yourself."_

Stiles didn't respond, refusing to rise to the bait, but part of him warmed slightly at the confidence shown in him. Instead he withdrew from the werewolf, he was desperate to get away, the tiredness that had been dogging him crept further upon him. He reclined back against a tree and slowly slipped into slumber.

Hours passed before Allison woke him for his shift, he had the last watch seemingly. He felt better than he'd felt in a while, though he no longer felt fully human any more, what with his spark and everything that had happened in is life. Stiles watched over their camp, he didn't set up another shield as he was unsure if that would draw attention to them and he needed to build up his strength again. Instead he practised with getting his spark senses to stay with him constantly so he wouldn't need to keep delving into himself, it was costing time and effort to call it up constantly. As his watch passed, he could do it relatively well, but it required continuous focus and effort, though it wasn't too draining, nowhere near as draining as the shield had been. Stiles' practise had been worthwhile, he was able to sense the creatures around them, there were more of them now they'd passed into an actual territory, rather than the no-mans-land before the mist. He'd carefully guided some away, though others refused to be moved, but acquiesced to his request of not interfering with each other. He also went through his backpack and checked over everything. But most of the time was spent in silence thinking, that was until Peter decided this was the perfect time to annoy him.

_"What will you do when the Unseelie King demands tribute?"_

_"What I have to. You know this."_

_"He'll want one of them."_

_"He can't have them, I won't allow it."_

_"You may not have a choice, you know this!"_

_"If I must bind myself to them, I will do so!"_ Unbidden the thoughts of the healing rose to the surface, but Stiles quickly shoved them away.

_"You already are…"_ Stiles could barely feel the sharp inhalation of the werewolf, it was almost painful.

_"What do you mean?"_

_"You're using part of the energy you took from the night-hag to remove the venom from all of you, why do you think the mark moved over to them. It's a healing bond. Interesting, it has very little other characteristics."_ Stiles could feel relief coming through the bond.

_"Why do you care?"_

Peter mentally stiffened _, "It is not important."_

_"Yes, it is."_

_"I - . The repercussions of a physical bond would affect our mental bond."_

_"In what way?"_

_"I do not know for sure: it could break it, or make it unbreakable, or even meld all of us together, or overwhelm the nexus; you."_

Stiles flinched away from the term and he felt Peter's curiosity rise. But he spoke before the werewolf could, _"Psycho-wolf, will you promise me something?"_

_"It depends on what it is…"_

_"If anything happens to me. I want you to look after the others, to protect them and to learn to care for people again."_ Stiles knew it was almost impossible for the werewolf to feel, he also knew he couldn’t ask the man to carry a message to his father, that would raise too many issues and problems.

_"Stiles, if something happens to you whilst we're joined, I probably won't be sane enough-"_

_"Promise me."_ Stiles broke in, needing the relatively pointless reassurance.

_"I promise."_ Peter said calmly and quietly.

_"Now, let's take a look at your 'clouds' shall we?"_

Stiles travelled the solid path back to Peter's mind, it still smelled of cloying smoke and smaller parts drifted around the central mass. Stiles flitted forward and readying himself he delved into one of the clouds, the shock of memories and information assaulted him. It was complete chaos, there was no order or anything controlling the onslaught, it just happened. At first the memories were too disordered to make sense, but slowly they became clearer. Stiles yanked himself out of the 'cloud' and drew back staring at it, he could feel his physical eyes watering.

_"What was it?"_

_"Too much. I - I -…"_

_"Stiles, breathe with me, you're safe from whatever it was…"_ Stiles let the other man's voice wash over him, lulling him back into a sense of calmness.

_"It's not what you think, it wasn't torture or madness. Peter, it was the memories of your family before Kate and the fire."_ He could feel the other man flinching away as if he'd been struck _. "Did you want me to try and join them?"_

_"No."_ And with that Peter broke the connection.

Stiles was left blinking at his surroundings, which he'd been vaguely aware of the entire time. He didn't know what to do, part of him wanted to go back after the werewolf, but the rest of him knew they needed to get going soon. He looked around, the campsite was in the eternal twilight that bordered the Unseelie part of the realm. The others were still resting, he eventually decided that they could afford to wait a little bit longer, and delved back through the connection into Peter's mind, pushing past the boundaries that were no match for him. He shuddered to a stop at the amount of grief pouring off of the other werewolf. It was enough to drown in.

_"You shut all this out? How?"_

_"With difficulty."_

_"It's not healthy."_

Laughter greeted him _, "You're one to talk, little red."_

_"Peter, let me try and re-join the clouds, at least you'll have those memories."_ Wordlessly he sent thoughts of his mother, and how even with the dementia and even after everything else she'd done, he treasured the memories he had of her. Slowly as he let the feelings wash over the werewolf, he felt a grudging acceptance in return.

Stiles reached out to the same cloud as before, but instead of delving inside of it, he tried pushing it back towards the other mind. It moved closer but no bonds grew between the two parts. Frowning he used the barest bit of spark and nurtured growth between the two parts, slowly tendrils formed and grew until the cloud fused seamlessly with the rest of Peter's mind. Stiles finally felt that he was getting the hang of things, which of course meant he was knocked flying as Peter's mind started to shake, reassembling itself around him. He felt a dizzying amount of emotions, at one point he couldn't even differentiate which were his or not. The whirl of emotions and movement faded away, leaving Peter's mind looking healthier than before, though there were still numerous other clouds floating around.

Before Stiles could offer to do the same for the others, Peter send a wordless message, that it would be too much, his mind would shatter further, he needed to get used to what he had just regained. Stiles smiled to himself as he withdrew from the other's mind, he received a final wave of emotion from the older man, of gratitude and - fondness? Stiles shied away from that thought, he wasn't ready to face the obvious emotions the other man had for him, it made him question too much. Instead he returned to the Fae realm and woke the two huntresses, still watching over the camp as the two went over their belongings and covered their tracks.

The Unseelie part of the realm was a mirror image to that of the Seelie part, Stiles discovered as they walked, the trees were characteristically darker and some were shrunken and twisted. Tree limbs seemed to reach for them on occasions and he had to be careful where they walked. His heighted senses helped enormously.

_"We're being watched."_ He commented to Peter.

_"Why the voyeurs, how dare they!"_ Peter responded sarcastically _. "What did you think would happen, when you lead two human huntresses to the Unseelie court?"_

_"True enough, how do your heightened senses work?"_

Peter seemed reluctant to respond and Stiles was about to move on when the werewolf spoke up _, "They're much different to yours, you can sense what's around you by your spark shifting and touching the world surrounding you. Which can be rather dangerous if someone takes over that slight connection."_

_"Don't worry, I'm shielding myself."_

Ignoring the interruption he continued _, "Instead we have the senses heighted, for example we can hear much more than humans, so we can work out where someone is standing. I thought you already knew this?"_

_"Yes, but I wasn't sure if there was anything else to it."_

_"Yes, there's been an evil scheme to hide our wolf powers from the humans of the group. In reality we're just so in tune with nature, that the birds and rabbits tell us all we need to know, like Disney princesses."_

_"Easy now, I was just asking a question, psycho-wolf."_ Stiles smiled to himself, the thought of any of them in princess dresses dancing around in the forest. He started chuckling to himself at the image of Derek dressed up as Snow White, and had to physically stop himself, when he realised he'd laughed out loud. He mouthed a quick sorry to the huntresses and delved back into the conversation _. "Not fair Peter, putting that thought in my mind."_

_"Anything is fair."_

_"Oh my god, you're totally a Disney villain aren't you? Scar or Frollo or Gaston!"_

_"Oh so my choices are a lion who is fed up with the world, a religious freak who burned down Paris, or a smarmy hunter?"_ Stiles could feel the waves of affront coming off of him.

_"Kinda? You have to admit to liking them thought, I can tell."_

_"Scar and Frollo to some extent, but the vain hunter?"_

_"Ha! You admitted it! And dude, have you seen yourself, you are vain incarnate."_ Stiles could feel Peter's grumbling response and he felt a twinge of apprehension when a sense of smugness overtook it _._

_"What does that make you then?"_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"What Disney characters are you, are you a prince, princess, a daring rouge?"_

_"Oh come now, psycho-wolf, this is pointless."_

_"Are you Terk? Meeko? Peter Pan?"_

_"You do realise that two of those are side-kicks and one is an eternal child?"_

_"Yes, but you have elements of both, though you are most like Peter Pan in your devotion and loyalty. Also let's not forget how cut-throat you can be."_

_"Yes, just like a psycho-wolf to compare me with an actual psychopath."_

_"Ah, so you are aware of the original tales?"_

_"Yes, Gaston, I am."_

_"Why Stiles if I didn't know better I'd say you were flirting with me."_

_"Flirting! Over Disney characters?"_ Stiles almost stumbled in disbelief.

_"Yes."_

Stiles mentally sputtered trying to come up with an appropriate response.

As they continued to walk, he couldn't tell how long it had been since they'd started, but as they moved further the realm grew darker as if turning into night. The light slowly diminished. At first small and then growing in size; magic filled red crystals started to appear in the ground and in trees; giving off a faintly tainted light and making the air buzz with magic, at least to Stiles' senses.

_"Soul gems, they guard the Fae Courts. Be careful Stiles, your spark may not work right when surrounded by them."_ Peter volunteered, the light-hearted banter from earlier dissipating.

_"I know, but I don't know how it will react. I didn't really get the chance to experiment in the Seelie Court."_

_"Whatever you do, don't let the others touch them with bare skin."_ Peter sent a passage from a book over to him. It detailed that creatures with no magic who touched them, would be fried by all the magic and energy and that those with magic, if they weren't prepared, their magic would be consumed by the gems. Stiles grimaced at the information, the exact details weren't pleasant.

_"I'm going to need to talk to the others, I may have to send my thoughts to them instead, I don't want to alert the watchers_." Stiles felt it as Peter wordlessly withdrew. 

Before they properly entered into the gem field he put his arms up stopping the other two. He debated for a moment and then reached out and grabbed their shoulders _, "Don't be alarmed, it's just me. Look, we're entering the beginnings of the court, that's what the gems signify. You should know we've been being watched for the last couple of hours. When we get to the court, let me lead, don't speak unless spoken to and try to speak as much truth as possible. Also, whatever you do don't touch the gems."_

_"What about not eating or drinking?"_ Allison sent back tentatively, more open to communicating this way than Braedon.

_"I thought that was obvious?"_ Stiles smirked and withdrew contact, he glanced at the two huntresses who nodded to him in response.

Stiles took a deep breath and moved further into the darkness. It grew and surrounded them, at times they could see even less than in the mist, only the occasional gem and reflected eyes lit their route. He could feel the nervousness of Allison and Braedon and the intent curiosity of the beings watching them. As they walked his senses started picking up a greater concentration of the magical energy the gems gave off up a head and in the distance he could see a bright red glow; the entrance to the court itself. They moved towards it, careful of the final stretch. Stiles flinched at the sound of rustling wings and looked up, in the red light he could just make out the silhouette of a bird flying above them, a raven. He frowned up at the bird as it circled before flying ahead into the court.

The trio reached the bright red glow in the darkness which turned out to be two massive soul gems, larger than the night-hag from earlier that stood as proud guardians. Standing in-between them was a dark humanoid figure, as they drew closer Stiles could see the being was as dark as the night around them, with beady eyes and dark feathers growing out of his face and limbs. A raven-man.

"Welcome Spark and Huntresses to the Unseelie Court." The raven-man proclaimed to them, "I wondered if you would make it this far. I am Berahthraben." He then bowed and swept out his arm bidding them entry.

Stiles paused, he wasn’t sure how to respond as he knew he must, but what names to say, his nickname was fine to use but what to call his friends, "I am Stiles and these are Silver and Mercury." He gestured to Allison and  Braedon who frowned slightly at the names he gave them, but they did not contradict him. Inwardly he sighed in relief.

"Silver and Mercury." The raven-man repeated and shifted as if he wanted to move forward, "Interesting choices." Berahthraben stared at them for a long moment before nodding, "Come then, the Court is waiting for you." He then turned and walked into the Unseelie Court, leaving the trio no choice but to follow.

Stiles reached out and put a hand on both women's shoulders as they walked between the gems, as they did, the darkness receded leaving them with the image of a red filled world that slowly faded until they could see normally, if tinged with red. The court was brighter than their eyes were used to and had paths and buildings surrounding them, it looked like a medieval court in concept but almost whimsical in style. In short, it was nothing like what he expected.

"You see the Unseelie and the darkness and think evil. But we are not bound by your ideas of reality or morality." Berahthraben said from behind them, they'd wondered further into the court in awe. Stiles could feel the huntresses stiffen and they turned to look at the raven-man, Stiles dropping his hands from the two women's shoulders.

They could see more clearly now, he was black and shifting in colour, midnight but with the sheen that birds have on their wings of purples and greens. He smiled at them, his perfect teeth on display an oddly strange sight. Berahthraben seemed to glide through the air even as he walked, moving almost too quickly for them to follow as he chose one of the many winding paths in front of them and lead them along it.

"Before we continue, we request your oath Berahthraben."

The raven-man faltered in his otherwise graceful movement and turned to stare at Stiles, his feathers fluttering as he tilted his head evaluating the trio. In the blink of an eye he flared the feathers and wings larger than that of the night-hag sprang up, behind him. The being walked forward, "The nogitsune's chosen is demanding an oath from me. You are an oath-breaker."

"I am not."

"Both you and your companions are. You will receive no such gift from me." He paused, "Not, without something equally important in return."

"Name it."

"Ah, I could ask for so many things as my price, locks of hair?" He chuckled, his voice rustling like the sound of his movements, "That would be something." He moved so he was stood in front of Stiles, they were equal in height. Berahthraben reached out with a hand and drew a taloned finger down Stiles' face. The claw burned and he clenched his fists, trying not to hiss in pain. "A taste, is my price." The raven-man whispered, his long talon holding a drop of blood.

"I give it you freely." Stiles forced the words out of his throat, "After you provide your oath to all of us."

"Three oaths for one price? That is not in my nature. But perhaps…" He turned his head towards Allison and cocked it to the side, "I can negotiate."

"No."

The raven-man's dark beady eyes flitted to Stiles before he moved and looked at Braedon. "No, I see that cannot be, but you." He moved a step over to her and for a moment Stiles thought the huntress would respond, she shifted slightly and moved as if to raise her gun and shoot Berahthraben.

"No. You know it is more than enough for your oath."

"Is it? I wonder…"

"It is, we require an oath of protection."

"Protection, how interesting…" The being smiled and turned back to Stiles. "I accept. I, Berahthraben, give you my oath of a Raven-man, trickster and one who delights in flying the currents of the air, that I will not harm one of you and or allow harm to come to you during this visit of the court."

"I, Stiles, and speaker for Silver and Mercury accept your oath and the agreed price of a single taste of myself, only." Stiles moved forward before either of the girls could respond and kissed Berahthraben, sealing the oath, stopping more from being added to it after he had agreed. It was strange, nothing like any of the kisses he'd ever had. Stiles could feel the magic settling around them and the jolt of the contract sealing. He pushed away as soon as possible, it felt too strange to put into words.

Berahthraben was smiling, "I do wish I had found you first, oh how amusing that would have been." The raven-man leant forward and kissed Stiles' cheek, when he came away his lips were covered in blood. "You are … fascinating." Berahthraben stared at Stiles for a long moment and then when Stiles blinked, he moved back over to the path he'd been standing by. Resolutely not looking at Allison and Braedon, Stiles followed after the man, leaving the others to walk behind him. The journey through the court was quick and uninterrupted, Stiles got the feeling that if not for the oath, it would not have been. He shivered at the knowledge of what was watching and following them. This was insane.

Berahthraben lead them to a large colosseum that all of the other structure gave a wide birth of. He led them through a door in the side of the colosseum and down a set of stairs, to the chambers underneath, they worked their way through a maze of rooms and corridors that Stiles could not have remembered unless he'd explored them for weeks. They finally reached an incline that lead to large grated door that was not unlike those that gladiators went through, Stiles felt nauseous at that thought. Berahthraben gestured and the grate rose up into the stone above it and they walked through into the dusty stone and dirt floor of the colosseum.

The first thing that Stiles saw was a giant tree in the centre of the oval floor, it was so wide that it would take at least ten people to be able to link hands around it. It towered out of the colosseum and into the abyss of darkness above. It was a dark brown, it's many branches held dark leaves, and more glittering red gems. There was a large circle of red gems around it and it rose on an incline after the ring, he averted his gaze quickly, not wanting to focus on it too much. Stiles was greeted with the sight of the stands, which were filled with all kinds of creatures and beings: the Unseelie court.

He hesitated at the sheer amount of creatures watching, this was not going to end well. Stiles was almost overwhelmed by the cacophony of sound surrounding them emanating from the cavea. His gaze slowly turned to the podium: the first tier, he let in a gasping breath, there were a number of night-hags in one of the boxes. This did not bode well, non-sidhe weren't allowed on that level, unless the King had awarded it as an honour for losing one of their ranks. A sickly feeling rose inside of Stiles, his plan of striking a deal was looking more and more unlikely by the second. He might have to improvise. The thoughts of what he could do flittered through his head as he assessed the situation, whilst walking with the others across the sanded floor.

A ringing gong sounded out into the colosseum silencing everyone immediately. Stiles stopped moving and his head lifted up in the direction the sound came from, sitting in the would be Imperial Box was the Unseelie King and his chosen.

"You have brought the humans before us then, Berahthraben?" A clear voice emanated from the box, that somehow seemed to carry throughout the arena.

"They are a gift my lord, they will be of interest to you." Berahthraben responded, his head bowed, he was standing closer than them to the imperial box and just off to their right, "They come with a message from the Seelie," He was cut off at the hissing that rose from the crowded seats before continuing, "They also killed the nogitsune and the night-hag Cyvher." Silence rebounded over the area as the name was uttered, only one place made sound; the box that held her screeching sisters.

After a long pause of no response from the King, the Sidhe that congregated in the lower levels shifted amongst themselves. But the sound did not reach the volume as before, though it did rise excitedly as Stiles moved forward and stopped in expectation as he opened his mouth to speak. "Ruler of the Unseelie court, master of the Sidhe, Lord Oberon." Stiles uttered the name and his terror rose as the crowd drew back from the arena in likewise fright; using the King's name was probably unwise. "I am Stiles and these are my companions Silver and Mercury. We -." Stiles gaped, his hands reaching for his throat: he was unable to speak. He gasped for breath and stared at the imperial box, the ruler he'd addressed was holding up a single hand. Stiles stared as a being older than his realm leant forward, the Lord of the Unseelie court was pale with dark hair and features, he looked almost like a male Snow White, but with four eyes. He was wearing green robes, that even with the red light somehow stood out as the actual colour. The King was also wearing an assortment of jewellery and a tall spiked crown.

_"Damn you for getting Disney stuck in my head."_ Stiles snapped at Peter, but he got no response, his eyes widened in worry. Stiles reached for the connection, but it was weak and blocked by some other power, could it be the gems? Stiles put the thought from his mind and focused on the power that was stopping him from breathing and speaking; it felt vaster than an ocean, and he didn't know how to push against it. He was being force-choked, Darth Vader made it seem much more cooler.

The Unseelie King was watching him with dispassionate eyes. Stiles felt a new wave of determination, he'd come this far and he was not going to give up now. He would not let this being or his former Queen have his pack. With agonising effort Stiles reached for his expanded spark and pushed against the power of Lord Oberon. It was barely a drop in the ocean, but it was enough to create some space for air, though the pressure was still there. Stiles coughed loudly and held onto Braedon gasping what little air he could, sweat beaded on his forehead, this was too much. Berahthraben was staring at him in amazement from where he stood near the group.

"Fascinating." The King stated the word rolling off of his tongue. The figure moved and was standing in front of the trio, they couldn't even flinch before he'd reached out with long fingers and grabbed Stiles' face, yanking him up and away from Braedon. "It has been a long time since I have met a spark. Tell me, what brings you to my realm."

"Your former Queen."

"I have no Queen."

"That's why I said former." Stiles retorted before he could stop himself, he flinched in expectation of a blow that did not come.

"This is true. Tell me, what message do you have for me then?" Oberon's face was nearly touching Stiles'.

"She has taken my pack hostage." Stiles was worried, this wasn't working, his original plan wasn't going to cut it, he needed to improvise. He internally grimaced, this was probably going to hurt a lot.

"Oh, and you came to try and use me to negotiate? Foolish. I have no care for immortals and their petty problems, why should I care for you?"

"Because our lives aren't eternal, we can disappoint you, but we will have a more fulfilled life than you ever will."

"I have seen eons born and die and you lecture me on mortality. Your arrogance know no bounds, fox."

"I am no fox."

"You may think that’s the case, but you are so very wrong, my young spark. Now state why you have come or I will tear it from your minds."

Stiles wanted to shift, but the ruler's vice like grip made it impossible. "What would you do if I told you I could get you the Seelie heart?"

"I'd think you mad and deserving of death." Lord Oberon said still looking into Stiles' eyes, and then he moved his hands to either side of Stiles' head, "I will feast on your mind then, you hold nothing for me."

Pain lanced through Stiles, he felt his blood burn and start to pour from his eyes, ears and mouth. "Maybe not, but you have something for me." He coughed out, blood spattering the once pure green clothing of the being holding him. Stiles reached out and grabbed the pendant hanging from the chain around Lord Oberon's neck. They both screamed. The court erupted into chaos. Creatures ran this way and that, clogging the exits and killing each other in their haste to escape. Some of the sidhe and night-hags in the front sections abandoned their seats for the arena floor. Berahthraben transformed and flew away, leaving Alison and Braedon staring as hordes of unseelie trampled their way towards them and Stiles was locked in a magical grip with their King.

"This is so not good." Braedon muttered, readying her gun.

"No time to discuss it now. I'll take this side, you take that side?"

"My kind of dance." Braedon responded as they put their backs to one another and they fired upon their attackers. So few of the screaming horde fell under their attacks, some were clawed at by their companions they wanting the first attack on the two huntresses in front of them.

"Whatever you're doing Stiles, hurry the hell up!" Allison shouted at him as the first wave was nearly on top of them, and then something grabbed them, lifting them up into the air; Berahthraben.

"Damn that boy and my oath." The raven-man hissed as he hoisted them into the air.

But they weren't alone for long, the night-hags also rose up and those of the sidhe that could fly joined them.  It was decidedly less than the hundreds littering the floor below them but still too many to fight. The duo could see the creatures giving Stiles and the King their space. 

"Thanks for the save, but this is hopeless." Braedon cried out.

"What about the tree?" Allison called out, pointing, they could see the unseelie court were also giving the tree a wide birth. Those on the ground started to throw things at them.

"That is an insane idea." Berahthraben responded, he then shifted in the air as a night-hag swiped at them, "And yet, I find myself liking insanity, more and more."

He shifted the huntresses in his arms so that they were close to his body and then dodged around the others. Allison and Braedon fired at those attacking them, as well as they could. Allison was using one of the guns they'd brought with them, she had no way of drawing her bow currently. They nearly lost their grip on their weapons, when they were slammed into by one of the sidhe that knocked the raven-man backwards. The sidhe had managed to grab onto them and his nails dug into them. They both felt a wave of weakness from the venom and then felt something burn inside of them. The creature moved to bite down on Allison's neck and Braedon squirmed managing to get her gun up and shoot it. He screeched and scrabbled at them, cutting them more but he lost his hold and crashed down into the ground below.

Before they could catch their breath, two night-hags slammed into them from either direction. Berahthraben managed to grab and throw one away, but the other slashed at Braedon, her vision started swimming, her ears burst as Allison fired her gun, knocking the creature off of them. But the hag turned in mid-air and hounded the raven-man's wings. They were almost to the tree, there was a clearing surrounding it on the other side of the gems. Both huntresses could feel Berahthraben tiring and could see his blood flying through the air under them. And then they were free-falling; Berahthraben was unconscious.

"You need to wake up!" Allison yelled, striking at the raven-man's chest, there was no response. The attacking creatures jarring laughter swelled as they surrounded them, taunting the huntresses they drew close and swiped at them before pulling away. Braedon pulled out an iron knife and pressed it flat against the man's chest, it sizzled and hissed, and they felt the shudder that racked through him. Berahthraben opened his eyes, his battered wings flaring but barely slowing down their terrifying plummet, he turned in the air, so that he would hit the ground first and they crashed into the arena.

The force of the landing knocked the air from their lungs, the huntresses groaned and looked blearily around, they were next to the tree, on the other side of the ring of red gems. Braedon recovered sooner and moved to sit up, pushing hard against the vice like grip of Berahthraben. It slackened under her push and they both fell off of the raven-man, who lay there battered and broken on the hard ground of the Unseelie court.

"Is he alive?" Allison breathed, barely above a whisper.

"Yes." Braedon said, relief in her voice as his chest rose and fell.

"Are you okay?" Allison asked looking over at the huntress.

"As well as can be, you?"

"Same." Allison smiled and they turned to look around, they stood on an incline by the gigantic tree and they were surrounded, strangely no one moved closer to attack them. Instead they eyed the crystals and tree warily. Allison looked passed them, she could barely make out Stiles and the King in the distance.

"I told you they'd survive." Stiles smiled in triumph, they'd both been sensing what had happened in the arena around them.

"For now. This is killing you and the moment you die, they will not survive. Let go and I will let you and your companions live."

"You'd sooner submit to your wife than release us." Stiles hissed venomously.

"I do like you, fox."

Stiles shuddered, "You two are so alike."

"I am not her!"

"No? Part of you delights in being like her. She is everything you wanted to be, she holds the key to the true song after all."

"There is no true song."

"Oh come now, the King of lies is lying to himself. This is brilliant."

"Foolish mortal, I can keep this up longer than you can live a normal lifetime."

"Yes, that's true. You could also end this, we both know you could do that, and yet you haven't, why is it?" King Oberon did not respond.

Stiles could feel the spark draining from him, his plan was failing before it had even begun. Desperately he called out into the void, Peter wasn't there. He could feel the panic surging inside of him.

**_"Commit to me and I will aid you."_** A voice whispered through his mind.

Stiles floundered, but he knew he had no other options, he'd been too foolish and sure of his powers _. "I commit_." He whispered back, so faintly he wasn't sure if he'd imagined it. He could feel his senses fading and the world dropping away from him. Stiles was dying.

"Amazing." The King breathed.

Stiles felt a jolt of wakefulness as knowledge and power poured into him, pushing him up and out of deaths embrace. He shook with the energy and Stiles felt the King let go as if burned. A wave of power rippled through the arena. Stiles opened his eyes to see the King staring at him, hand raised as power hurtled towards him. Stile reflexively responded, throwing his new might back at the sidhe. For a moment it worked, but the power was too much, the bond to new. It overwhelmed him and Stiles felt himself fading again. Just when he thought he was going to die King Oberon stopped.

The King walked slowly over to Stiles, and stood looking down at the young spark. "I will grant you what you seek and current freedom, upon the agreement that you will return for the duration of one earth year. You will bind yourself to my cause and will for this year."

"I will not kill and maim for you." Stiles wheezed at the figure standing above him.

The King cocked an eyebrow, "I will grant you free-will for the duration of the year, on the condition that if you fail my test at the end, you will stay another and so on, until you pass."

"I accept." Stiles breathed, he then felt the barest touch on his lips as the magic swirling around them sealed the deal.

He could feel strong arms underneath him, lifting him up into the air and could see the court staring on as their King carried him over to his friends. "I have struck a bargain with Stiles, it will be honoured. His companions however are free for you to kill, if you can reach them." The King spoke to the whole arena. He stopped just in front of the circle of gems and then threw Stiles through the air, which crackled around him as he passed over the gems. He crashed into Braedon who was trying to catch him and he collapsed in her arms.

"Stiles! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine." He said slurring his words slightly. "We need to get out of here before they overcome their fear." He groaned and clumsily stood up, he blinked his eyes a couple of times as if he couldn't see quite right. Stiles looked down at the pendant in his hands and it was a red soul gem set in metal. He paused for a moment he stroked it with his thumb slightly and then fastened it around his neck. He looked over at the huntresses, "Can you guys, pick him up?" He gestured to Berahthraben and watched as they hoisted him up between each other, he groaned in pain, his wings fluttering and feathers malted away.

Stiles turned away from the chattering group of sidhe and night-hags and turned to look at the tree in the centre the soul gem ring. It towered over all of them and was so wide Stiles would have to walk a couple of paces either way to see, let alone reach the other side. In the massive trunk there was a large natural hole. "This way." He gestured to the others and walked towards the hole in the tree, Stiles waited for the others to step inside and moved in after them. He turned to look back out to the arena, the horde was watching silently. The King was staring at him from where he'd thrown Stiles over the gems. He held Stiles gaze as he looked down upon the King. Holding the gaze Stiles then reached out and touched the tree, he could feel it pulse under him. He only broke eye contact as the world shifted around them and they moved away from the Unseelie Court.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not happy with how the interaction between Stiles and the King turned out, I may end up coming back and editing the latter part of this later.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this a lot later than I wanted to, due to internet problems. Also this thing is a monster. It started off as a nice short story, possible a two-shot. And no. Each chapters looking like it's going to shape up to around 8000 words each. What have I done.


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